


The New Girl

by darkstark



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Adolescence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Family Dynamics, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Growing Up, Step-parents, blended families - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-19 04:20:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 93,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5953378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkstark/pseuds/darkstark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a new girl in her father's life, and Shireen is not so sure how she feels about it.</p><p>Of growing up and growing wiser.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. age eleven (part one)

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I need to warn you. This story is a Sansa/Stannis fic, but not in the strictest sense. It's mostly a story about family relationships. It's entirely told through Shireen's very subjective POV, and thus, there won't be a lot of romance (though there will be some), and obviously there won't be any smut, for very obvious reasons. So, if you don't feel like reading about a confused child trying to make sense of the world of adults and getting no steamy compensation eventually, feel free to go read any other fic in this tag - thankfully we have some really talented writers who write amazing stuff!  
> Anyway. If you do feel like reading about a girl being simultaneously attacked by hormones and life, I hope you enjoy this. :)

Later, she will often hear them say they met around Christmastime, at the day of the winter solstice. It definitely sounds very romantic, and roughly speaking it is true, but it’s not accurate. Shireen hates inaccuracies. When she hears them tell the story this way, she fights the urge to correct them. Yes, it was around Christmastime, and yes, it was the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year. But they didn’t meet then for the first time. More like they met again. _Properly_. They had known each other for years – all her life, half of his. And it was at her brother’s twelfth birthday party. How could they omit _that_? 

It’s their story, and they can tell it the way they like it. But it’s her story too. And she can tell it the way she knows it.

//

Her father turns off the car engine but doesn’t get out of the car immediately. He sits rigidly in his seat, and from the rear-view mirror she can see he’s scowling more than usual. She wrinkles her nose, secretly glad she’s not the only one who feels like they don’t really have any business being here. The present sits in her lap, wrapped in Christmas-themed paper. She has chosen it herself and feels nervous about it – she hates picking presents for people she hardly knows.

“Are you ready?” her father asks grimly, looking at her through the mirror. She nods, even though she wishes they had stayed home, where he would do some work and she could continue her book. Perhaps if he didn’t have too much work to do, they could do a puzzle together later. But no, they had to spend the next few hours feeling super awkward.

Catelyn is the one to answer the door. Light and laughter pour out from inside the house, and she makes Shireen think that she’s one of the most beautiful mums she has seen – youthful, but soft-looking, with perfect hair and warm eyes.

“Stannis, we’re so happy you came!” she says with a bright smile as she steps to the side, to let them in. “Shireen, you’ve become a proper young lady, haven’t you! Bran will be very happy to see you!”

Shireen doubts that. First of all, he’s a boy, which means his stomach probably turns every time he sees a girl. Secondly, they hardly know each other. She only knows the Stark children because of her uncle Robert – he’s really good friends with Ned, their father, and Shireen has spent some Christmas eves or new year’s eves with them at uncle Robert’s house. But as she often spends the holidays with her mother, she can’t say she’s really friends with any of them. The only reason they’re at this stupid party is again because of her uncle. He called her father and practically demanded that they came. Shireen had timidly asked her father if perhaps they could say no, but he had simply clenched his jaw and said that his brother had really insisted.

She tries to stay close to her dad as long as she can, the only truly familiar face in a sea of half-strangers, but almost immediately they get separated by Catelyn, who doesn’t seem so beautiful to Shireen anymore. The last she sees of her father is as he’s being ushered in the living-room and his older brother gives him a hearty clap on the back. She gets sent upstairs, where the rest of the kids are.

The party is a bit of a torture. There are too many boys and too few girls, and she doesn’t know any of them. It would have been alright if Myrcella was there, but she is sick with the flu and uncle Robert brought only little Tommen with him, who’s playing with Rickon in a corner of Bran’s room. It’s a little embarrassing, but she ends up spending most of the time on her own, reading Bran’s comic books. The fact that no one seems to care to include her in any of the games they’re playing is even more embarrassing, but she tries to ignore the thought. She hates imposing herself on others. At least Bran has a really good taste in books.

She sees her father again when they go downstairs to cut the birthday cake. He’s standing on the side with Sansa, the oldest Stark girl, and they seem to be in deep conversation. They only pause when everyone starts singing the birthday song for Bran, Sansa singing loudly and clearly, a big smile on her fuchsia lips, her father remaining awkwardly silent. Shireen steals a moment as everyone gathers around the table to get a piece of the cake. Her father is typically abstaining from sugar. She asks him if they can go soon, now that the most important bit is done – and it comes as a shock to her when her father presses his lips together and tells her that it wouldn’t be right to leave so soon. She gives him a wounded look and doesn’t wait to see if it had any effect on him. She runs to the bathroom, and wastes as much time as she can away from everyone and their stupid happiness.

It seems like ages have passed before kids start leaving. To her surprise and displeasure, she is one of the last to leave, and even then she sort of has to nag her father about it. They’re standing in the hallway again, putting on their jackets. Catelyn and Sansa are there too, to see them off, and between small talk Sansa mentions how she had to take the bus to come to Winterfell because her car broke down a few days ago and she’ll have to borrow her mother’s car to return to King’s Landing.

Shireen happens to be looking at her father’s face when she says that, having turned to him to ask a question. There’s something in his eyes and mouth, a feeling that she won’t be able to decipher until she’s much older, and perhaps in this moment he doesn’t quite understand either.

“You can come with us, if you want. We’ll drop you off wherever you want” he offers, and Sansa’s smile is answer enough.

There’s always a companionable silence when she’s in the car with her father. She reads a book or she looks outside the window, and he’s focused on the road. On short rides there’s absolute silence. On longer rides, he sometimes plays audiobooks about history. Shireen listens along with him, zoning in and out of the subject, lulled by the calm voice of the reader. She’s heard of people playing games when they’re in the car, or singing to music. It’s a foreign concept to her, which is why it feels so strange to be in her father’s car now, trying to read on her e-book and constantly getting distracted by the ongoing conversation between her father and Sansa. It’s rather one-sided, with Sansa giving out most information, and her father asking questions as if he’s interrogating her. Shireen can’t help but listen to what they’re saying, and eventually gives up on the attempt to read, turns off the e-book and resorts to looking the wet darkness outside her window.

Sansa is in her last year of her elementary education degree, studying to be a teacher, and sounds genuinely excited about it – she goes on and on about the importance of solid, good education during people’s formative years, and how a teacher should be a role model and someone who can set you in the right path for the rest of your life. She talks a lot, but her voice is soft and fresh and Shireen finds it easy to listen to her as she jumps from subject to subject, talking about her studies, her siblings, the weather, how much it will cost to fix her car and whether she will stay in King’s Landing after she graduates. Shireen can see her father from where she’s sitting, stealing furtive glances at the young woman next to him, fading in and out of light as they pass by the tall lamp posts on the side of the road.

But Sansa doesn’t only talk. She listens too. It is an hour-long ride from Winterfell to King’s Landing, and somehow in the second half Sansa has managed to make Shireen’s father talk more than his daughter has ever heard him. It’s superficial stuff – what his job is like and what his studies were like when he was in college, but to Shireen it’s an entirely new experience to listen to her father talk about his life in such a linear and comprehensive way, and she keeps silent, listening intently, hoping he’ll say more about the things she is too timid to ask him.

When they arrive at Sansa’s place, instead of Sansa saying a quick thank you and goodbye before leaving, there is a strange, tentative silence. Shireen is looking between her father and Sansa a little impatiently, getting cranky again now that she’s not being distracted anymore and she remembers what a lousy time she had at the party. But the adults don’t seem to remember that she even exists. Eventually, Sansa asks if they want to go upstairs for a cup of hot chocolate. Apparently her roommate Margaery is visiting her family in the Reach for the holidays. Shireen swears that her father almost says yes, before he holds back and declines politely, saying that it’s getting late and they should be going home. They look at each other for a few long moments, and Shireen doesn’t get the point, because as far as she knows, neither of them is telepathic. At last, Sansa mumbles some thank yous and goodbyes to her father, and waves cheerfully at Shireen when she’s out of the car. Shireen waves back, thinking absentmindedly that she’s not going to see Sansa again until next Christmas.

She is to spend the rest of the holidays with her mother and this year is special because they’re going skiing in the Vale for a few days, with some of her mother’s family. On Saturday morning, on the last day before the trip and after she has turned her room upside down looking for her isothermal clothes, Shireen realizes she has left them in her wardrobe in her father’s place. When she tells her mother she rolls her eyes and scolds Shireen for being so careless and forgetful. She has her call her father -Selyse never talks with him if she can avoid it- and ask him if he’s home so that she can pick up her stuff from there. Her father sounds a little confused at first, which on its own is strange, but Shireen is too preoccupied with the fact that she has annoyed her mother over something that could have easily been avoided to pay any attention to her dad. She asks if she can come over right now, and his hesitation is long enough for her to register it, but the thought gets buried under his agreement.

On the way to his apartment her mother keeps complaining that this is completely disorganizing her day. Shireen remains purposefully silent, looking straight out of the window, trying not to look like she’s completely ignoring her mother. She gets in the tall apartment block on her own, her mum waiting in the car outside. In the elevator she’s trying to remember exactly how many pairs of isothermal pants she has and if there’s anything more she needs to pick up from her room, so that she won’t have to spend another awkward morning like this. She gets in the apartment in a hurry, knowing that her mother won’t like it if she keeps her waiting for too long. She shouts good morning as she crosses the living room to reach her own room, thinking that her dad will be in his study. She is startled when his voice comes from a lot closer – from the dining area. 

She turns to look at him, a little dazed. He’s sitting at the dining table in his casual clothes, his usual cup of hot water in his hand. And next to him, with a lot less makeup than what Shireen remembers from Bran’s party, and wearing a shirt that she’s pretty sure she’s seen her dad wearing a hundred times, is Sansa. Her father is expressionless. Sansa smiles faintly. Shireen is just standing there, in the middle of the living-room, having for the moment forgotten what her purpose was.

“Oh” she says eventually. “Hi”

Her brain skips over most steps of logical thinking and arbitrarily decides that Sansa is there on a social call, completely shutting off the fact that she’s not wearing her own clothes, or that no one ever visits Stannis other than Davos, or that it’s entirely too early in the morning for anyone to pay a visit. Shireen mechanically tells them she needs to get her clothes and goes to her room. When she reemerges with a bag full of isothermal pants and shirts, she finds her father and Sansa just as she left them. She mumbles that she needs to leave, and her father finally gets up and walks her to the door of the apartment. He seems like he’s trying to tell her something, but Shireen is completely short-circuited and can’t help him the way she usually does when he’s struggling for words. Eventually he just wishes her to have a good time on the trip, pressing her head on his chest, the most physical expression of his affection towards her.

Her mother asks her if she got her stuff when she gets in the car, and this is when Shireen snaps back in reality, biting back the urge to make a sarcastic comment like, no, she just magically acquired this new bag she’s carrying, and it’s full of avocados or something, definitely not clothes. She doesn’t tell her mother about Sansa, partly because she never tells people things unless they specifically ask her, and partly because she doesn’t really know what to say about it.

//

“Do you mind if Sansa comes over?”

It’s a rainy Sunday afternoon, and Shireen is sprawled on the living room carpet, dividing puzzle pieces according to their colour. Doing puzzles is one of her favorite activities with her dad – another thing that requires little talking and a fair bit of concentration. She suspects that it can’t be as fun for him as it is for her since he’s colourblind, but he’s got a good eye for shapes and is a great help with the tough parts, where colours don’t help and all you can do is blindly try to match pieces together. She looks up, surprise in her eyes. She had somehow managed to completely forget about Sansa in the month after the holidays, and her father had never mentioned anything.

“Sansa is coming here?” she asks slowly. 

“If you think it’s ok” her father says, attempting to match two pieces together that should look entirely incompatible even to him.

Shireen looks down at her pieces as well, unable to look at her father. She wants to tell him it’s not really ok. She wants to tell him that she only gets to spend the weekends with him, and it’s not nearly enough, what with him working half the time and her studying for school. She wants to tell him she doesn’t want anyone to come over, because then she won’t have him for herself – his silence and his stillness are supposed to be only hers for these measly two days. But the words get stuck in her throat, creating a knot, and she only manages to nod that, yes, it’s alright if Sansa comes over.

When Sansa arrives with a bright smile and hair frizzy from the rain, Shireen doesn’t bother to get up from her spot on the floor, directing her greeting more to the lint on the carpet rather than to Sansa. Even from this position though she can see Sansa giving a quick, chaste kiss on her father’s cheek.

“Hey, Shireen!” Sansa says brightly. “You’re doing a puzzle, huh? I was never very good at them, always got bored within the first few minutes”

Shireen mumbles defensively that she doesn’t find puzzles boring at all. Sansa for some reason decides to sit next to her on the floor, even though she just stated she doesn’t like puzzles.

“Wow, that’s a lot of pieces. Are you doing this all by yourself?”

“Dad’s helping me out a bit. He’s quite good for a colourblind person” Shireen says as she fits another piece in its place.

“All men are a little colourblind, aren’t they?” Sansa says with a knowing laugh.

“No, dad actually is” Shireen says seriously, still looking at her pieces instead of Sansa.

“What? You never told me that” Sansa says awkwardly to Stannis who is looming over them.

“Well, it’s not that interesting” he says simply.

“Don’t start pointing at colours, asking him if he can recognize them” Shireen cuts in when she sees Sansa opening her mouth again. She smiles to herself when she sees Sansa shutting her mouth immediately and her cheeks flushing red.

“Erm, some tea?” her dad asks awkwardly.


	2. age eleven (part two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shireen is still not a very big fan of Sansa. Sansa is patience incarnate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for taking the time to read this and for leaving kudos and such lovely comments! It's making the writing process even more enjoyable!

She ends up seeing Sansa almost every weekend she spends at her dad’s. It becomes so common from a point on that her dad stops asking her if it’s alright for Sansa to come and spend the day with them and that bugs Shireen, but she doesn’t have the guts to tell her dad. At least Sansa is smart enough to avoid spending another awkward afternoon in their apartment, so usually when they meet they go out to do something together. They go to the cinema, or to the new aquarium in Blackwater Bay, or to the botanical gardens of King’s Landing, or to a museum. It’s always something that doesn’t require them to talk all the time, and for the most part Shireen has to admit it’s fun going to all these interesting places, but the fact remains she would rather do all these activities alone with her dad.

“Please take a step back” the man behind the camera says in a fake-pleasant voice. 

At Blackwater Bay Aquarium you can have your photo taken in front of the impressive tanks, full of exotic, colourful fish. At the end of your visit, your photo will be developed and ready to be bought near the exit. Shireen didn’t want a photo, but they were all taken aback by the photographer who had started correcting their postures before he even asked them if they did want their photo taken.

“Sir, if you can stand a little closer to your daughters-” the man’s voice falters when Stannis glares at him and he just pretends to cough awkwardly when he realizes his mistake, but it’s enough for Shireen’s mood to get even worse than it already is. She walks away quickly when the photo is taken, feigning interest in the stupid fish, and keeps a small distance between herself and her father and Sansa for the rest of the visit.

At the exit they find their picture hanging among those of other visitors with awkward smiles.

“Well? Shall we take it?” Sansa asks cheerfully. 

Shireen looks at the glossy paper. Her father seems to be caught between a scowl and an expression of confusion, his shoulders a little hunched. Sansa next to him is smiling brightly as always, glowing with effortless grace in her simple yet stylish dress. And in the front, Shireen looks pathetic, with bad posture and utter lack of grace.

Being around Sansa so much has made her extremely self-conscious. Sansa is, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful girls she has seen – and that includes actresses and models as well. She’s tall, with perfect proportions, glossy, thick red hair, a beautiful face with delicate features, porcelain skin and bright sky-blue eyes. At eleven Shireen already knows she will never grow as tall as she would like to. She also knows that her lips are too thin, her jaw a little too square and her ears entirely too big for her head. She thinks her body is flabby and her skin pale in a sickly way, now constantly under the attack of acne. Her hair is a dull, mousy brown, having grown darker than the dark blond it used to be up until a couple of years ago. The only thing she really likes about herself is her eyes, dark blue, same as her fathers.

“I don’t want it” Shireen says, and she sounds a little too abrupt even to her own ears.

“I think I’ll take it” Sansa says, as if she didn’t hear what Shireen said.

She’s learned to place more value in things other than good looks – in kindness, in intelligence, in a good sense of humour- partly because she needs to believe that if she does this for others, then others will do that for her too, others will see her as more than a homely girl. But being around Sansa is hard, especially when they’re out in public. She’s convinced that people look at them and compare them in their thoughts, and find Shireen lacking every time. She’s trying hard not to think this way, trying not to spoil her good mood over a matter that is –should be- so unimportant, but the thought is always there, at the back of her head. The fact that she is comparing herself, a prepubescent girl, to a grown woman completely evades her.

//

She’s lying on her bed and she feels a little bit like crying. It’s Sunday morning, 11:30 according to her watch. She’s been up since 9, but the moment she woke up she heard Sansa’s clear laugh coming from the kitchen. She’s been staying over some nights now. And Shireen is sick of her. She’s tired of seeing her all the time, of never having a quiet moment alone with her dad anymore. She’s tired of always feeling so aware of her looks when Sansa is around. When she woke up this morning and realized that Sansa was there, she decided to stay in bed for as long as she could. She’s not entirely sure what she’s trying to accomplish – if it’s just a way to avoid Sansa or if it’s also a sort of test for her father, to see if he will even notice that his daughter is not there. But by 11:30 she feels frustrated, bored and angry. Because Sansa is still out there. And because her dad didn’t come to check on her. And because she really, really needs to pee. She realizes this was a stupid idea after all, but at this point she feels too stubborn to just give up and get out of bed. She will wait until her father remembers that she _exists_.

It’s almost 12 o’clock when her father knocks on her door, calling her name. She doesn’t answer. He comes in on the third knock, and stands over her bed.

“Shireen, are you alright? It’s quite late” he says, looking a little concerned.

She wants to tell him she’s not alright. But instead she just says she didn’t feel like getting up. 

“Well, if you want to get up now, Sansa is making pancakes for you”

She looks at her father as if he has suddenly grown a second head. She wants to cry, but mostly she wants to scream. Sansa is not supposed to be making pancakes! No one is supposed to be making pancakes in this kitchen, where the fattiest thing that has ever been cooked is salmon – and _that_ fat is the good kind!

In all the years she’s been having breakfast at her father’s place, the limited choice is always the same: a cup of tea, bread, butter and honey, or alternatively, muesli with milk for her, and an apple and a cup of warm water, sometimes with a lemon slice, for her father. Peanut-butter, cocoa and even jam have never occupied the kitchen cupboards. And now Sansa is indeed making pancakes, humming some melody as she pours the batter in the pan. She’s even wearing an apron (Shireen didn’t know her father owned one) and looks every bit the perfect housewife. Shireen doesn’t say good morning to Sansa until her father points it out in a sharp tone. But Sansa just laughs it off, saying how she remembers being that age and finding it extremely hard to leave her bed in the weekends. She puts a plate of pancakes in front of Shireen and smiles sweetly. Shireen gets the urge to slap her, and she doesn’t even know why at this point. Instead she tries the pancakes, and secretly admits that they’re _amazing_. Even her father gets convinced to have some, trying them with some sour cream instead of maple syrup. Shireen finishes her plate in silence, hardly listening to the conversation between her father and Sansa. She feels so tired of everything being so not-normal. 

She’s gotten off the table and is ready to go take a shower, when she hears her father apologizing to Sansa for his daughter’s rudeness the moment she’s out of the kitchen. Her heart clenches when she realizes she forgot to say thank you for the breakfast. She didn’t mean to be rude, she was just absentminded! For a moment she hesitates, wondering if she should go back and say thank you now, but in the end she decides there is no point. From the kitchen she hears Sansa saying that it’s not a big deal, but her voice isn’t as cheerful now.

//

“Shireen, I’d like to talk to you” he says stiffly.

It’s Friday evening and she’s sitting on the dining table, doing her homework for Monday. She looks in question to her father, who takes a seat opposite to her. He looks at her silently for a few moments, no doubt trying to decide how to proceed. This isn’t something unfamiliar to her. Her father often seems uncertain of how to speak to her, but he always seems to be choosing the right words in the end.

“Shireen, is there a problem with Sansa?” he asks eventually, the line of his mouth thin and straight, his brow furrowed. For some reason, the question comes as a surprise to her. She has fantasized countless times of telling her father what she thinks of Sansa, but now that she can, she finds herself unable to utter a word. 

“You seem… I’ve noticed that you’re a little glum when Sansa is around. Is something the matter? Has she… said something to you? Done something to you? Something to make you sad?” her father continues, looking at her seriously, expecting an answer. But Shireen has swallowed her tongue. 

“Because you can tell me” her father continues after more silence on her part. “I need you to know that you can talk to me if something is wrong – anything”

She feels her chest being pressed, as if someone has dumped a huge rock on it, and the familiar knot in her throat that makes both talking and breathing hard.

“Shireen? Has Sansa treated you badly?” her father insists, although gently, by his standards.

“No” Shireen whispers. Because, she really can’t say Sansa has harmed her in any way.

“Then what is it? I’m sure there’s something that worries you”

She’s been looking at her geography book for the most part of this conversation, but she raises her eyes to look at her father now, and realizes that she is in tears.

“Shireen?” he whispers, and the way he says her name makes more tears run down her face. She takes a few deep breaths, trying to make the knot in her throat go away, because she finally needs to say something.

“I don’t like it that she’s always around” she says in her choked voice. 

“But… she’s always nice to you” her father says weakly.

“I know. But she’s _always_ here. And… I just… I want things to be like before” she forces herself to say, although it seems almost impossible to say exactly what she thinks.

“Before?”

“When it was just you and me” she explains. She doesn’t bother wiping her eyes – the tears come down in continuous streams, though she is at least spared the sobs.

Her father remains silent for a little while, suddenly looking rather tired.

“Shireen…”

She makes herself look at him, and she doesn’t know if this makes things harder or easier for either of them.

“It’s still you and me” he says finally, his serious tone somewhat undermined by the unusual warmth in his voice.

“But _she_ is here too!”

“I understand that you want the two of us to spend more time together. You are right, and I’ll work on it. But Sansa will continue to be around. She… is important to me. I… have been alone for a long time. And I don’t want to be alone anymore. I understand this is difficult for you. But I think, in time, you will see it as a good thing. I need to have someone in my life too. That’s all” he says carefully, pausing before each sentence, and Shireen can’t look him in the eyes anymore, because it’s simply horrifying to listen to her _father_ talk about such personal things.

The concept is not foreign to Shireen. Her parents divorced when she was very little – 2 or 3 years old perhaps. She doesn’t know what it means to grow up in a “normal” family. She doesn’t know what it means to have your parents say good things about each other. She doesn’t think her father is supposed to love only her mother and her mother only her father. Until now, there have been a few men in her mother’s life. Shireen was too young to think of them as anything other than friends of her mother, but now she realizes that they were boyfriends. They were all kind to her. They all found time to play with her and make her laugh. And Shireen never once felt like she was becoming less important to her mother just because she had a new friend. But her father – her father is her constant. Despite the fact that she lives with her mother and sees him only two days a week if she’s lucky, he’s the one she considers the go-to person, the problem solver, the one who’s _always there_. And to have someone –Sansa- threaten all this, her security, her trust in his unwavering presence in her life…

At eleven she can’t quite understand all this - why it’s simply harder for her to share him with others than it is to share her mother. But when he asks her if she does understand what he means, she nods in place of an answer. She gets the gist of it. That her father wants to be happy – happier. And Sansa makes him happier. And Shireen should get used to it. And he’s not leaving his only-child or anything. 

He gets up and stands by her side, his hand drawing her head to his body. Sitting like that her head only reaches his stomach as she leans into him. He lets her tears damp his shirt, and she breathes in his familiar smell – aftershave and fabric softener. Nothing is resolved. Yet though other childhood memories will fade away, this particular afternoon will always be clear in her thoughts.

//

She supposes that Sansa is alright, generally. She’s annoyingly pretty. She talks a lot more than Shireen is used to. But usually she says interesting things, and she can be quite funny at times. With time, Shireen notices how there are less creases in her father’s face when Sansa is around, and how his lips sometimes get pulled from a straight line to a curve of happiness. And she’s cool with Shireen, who often loses her patience with the world in general and she’s grumpy and mean to everyone. Sansa pretends she doesn’t hear Shireen’s remarks. And when Stannis tries to intervene and scold Shireen for being rude, she just smiles and puts her hand on his arm, and that’s enough to stop him from saying anything. Shireen rolls her eyes at that, because Sansa is sorely mistaken if she thinks she will become her friend just by acting cool and not telling her off for her occasional rude remarks. But she’ll let that slide, just like Sansa lets things slide. Shireen is not happy with the arrangement; but she has learned to tolerate it.

She doesn’t tell her mother anything, though she supposes at some point she’ll have to. She doesn’t know how to start the conversation, or rather she doesn’t know how to stop it when it starts. Her mother will be asking all sorts of questions, and Shireen doesn’t want to answer any of them. Besides, if she told her, it would make things official. And there’s a part of her which still hopes that Sansa won’t be around forever.


	3. age eleven (part three)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shireen has a mortifying experience. People react to Stannis and Sansa's relationship. Stannis and Shireen have some daddy-daughter time.

“So, your dad is dating Sansa?” Myrcella asks curiously as she applies sunscreen on her flat stomach.

Schools have just closed, and summer vacations are stretching ahead of them. If Shireen tries hard enough, she can convince herself they will last forever.

“She’s like, my dad’s goddaughter” Myrcella continues, now turning her attention to her perfect thin legs. “That makes her, like, your dad’s niece or something, doesn’t it?”

“No, it doesn’t!” Shireen snorts. Honestly, she loves Myrcella, but sometimes she says the stupidest things. She’s pinching her belly over her sporty one-piece. She can never imagine herself wearing a bikini, especially one as miniscule as the one Myrcella is wearing, even in the privacy of Myrcella’s backyard.

“But she’s like, what, six years older than us?”

Shireen has to do some counting before she answers to that.

“More like nine” she corrects Myrcella. She doesn’t feel like swimming, but she’s seriously thinking about jumping in the pool to put a quick end in the conversation.

“She could be our sister” Myrcella says thoughtfully, pushing her long, golden hair out of her face to apply some sunscreen there too. She’s even paler than Shireen, and she doesn’t get sun-kissed – more like sun-grilled.

“Why are we even talking about this?” Shireen groans.

“Because it’s weird! Weird things are cool!” Myrcella says with a laugh.

Shireen envies her. Not because she’s more beautiful or because her father buys her everything she wants, but because she doesn’t have to count how many years older than herself her dad’s new girlfriend is. Aunt Cersei has always made Shireen feel a little uncomfortable -like she’s not entirely welcome in her house, like she’s reluctant to acknowledge her relation to her- but at least she’s closer in age to her husband than to her children.

“Weird things are just weird” she says, and dives in the pool.

//

The stain is more brown than red and the fabric is not really soaked – it’s more like a gooey, sticky thing rather than a liquid. Shireen has been looking at it for a few minutes now, cursing at her luck. She must be the most unlucky person in the entire _world._

“Shireen, are you ok?” her father’s voice carries from the living room to the bathroom. They were ready to head out, when Shireen said she wanted to go to the toilet really quickly. That was a full ten minutes ago.

She takes a deep breath, stands up and puts on her dirty underwear again. She can’t stay in here forever, and she can’t hide this from her dad – unfortunately. She’s going to need things.

Her father is waiting for her in the living room, looking a little concerned.

“Is your stomach upset?” he asks and Shireen really wishes she could say yes.

“I think I – I think I got my first period” she says in a really small voice, and she immediately feels her face burning.

“What?” her father asks incredulously. 

“My first period” Shireen repeats in an even smaller voice. Her father is just staring at her, looking dumbfounded.

“Hey! So sorry I’m late, I – what’s the matter?” Sansa has just burst in the living room, panting slightly, in a lovely floral sundress and strappy heels.

Shireen is ready to say that nothing’s the matter, but her father beats her to it.

“Shireen thinks she got her first period” he says helplessly. 

“ _Dad_!” Shireen shouts looking at him in utter shock and horror. She can’t believe he just said this to Sansa! She feels blood rushing to her face with such speed that she’s afraid her head is going to explode. She has never felt more embarrassed in her entire life!

“Oh” Sansa says. “ _Oh_. Stannis, do you mind giving us some privacy?” she asks, and Shireen watches as her father practically flees the room, looking rather shaken.

“How do you feel, Shireen?” Sansa asks gently once they’re alone.

_Absolutely mortified._

“I don’t know. Normal” she bites out.

“Do you feel any discomfort? Or pain, a little lower than your stomach?” Sansa asks again with a look Shireen suspects she reserves for the six-year-olds she will soon be teaching. She shakes her head. She wants this conversation to end, _so badly_.

“And you had some blood?” Sansa continues.

“A little… But it’s not exactly like blood?” Shireen says uncertainly, feeling extremely awkward with the whole situation. She can’t decide if it’s better to talk to Sansa because she’s a woman, or if it’s worse because she’s a random stranger.

“It might sound weird, but would you mind if you showed me? To make sure” 

“What? That’s gross!” Shireen says before she can stop herself, but even as she says it, doubt starts creeping in her mind. What if this gooey thing was not her period? What if it was something else entirely?

In the end they do this really awkward thing where Shireen goes to the bathroom again, takes off her dirty underwear, puts on a clean pair with the small pad Sansa has given her and then lets Sansa in to examine the stain in her panties. Sansa takes the cotton panties in her hands and looks at them with a calm expression on her face, while Shireen wonders if this is a nightmare and she’s supposed to wake up any minute now.

“I think it’s your first period too” Sansa says eventually, a sweet smile on her face.

“Great” Shireen says miserably.

“I also got my period when I was eleven” Sansa says lightly and throws Shireen’s panties in a plastic basin. “Congratulations. You’ve just embarked on the magical journey that is womanhood” she continues cheerfully as she rummages through the cabinet under the sink.

“I don’t have anything here. Like pads or anything like that. I wasn’t expecting this” Shireen says, trying to completely ignore the mention of words such as “journey” and “womanhood”.

“Don’t worry about that. We’ll go and buy whatever you need” Sansa says soothingly as she pours a few drops of detergent on the period stain. “We should let it soak a little, or else the stain will never come off. Something you’re going to learn soon is that period blood is the worst kind of stain” she explains with a sigh as she puts the bottle of detergent back in the cabinet.

“Hey. Do you maybe want to call your mum and tell her?” she asks then.

“What for? I’m going to tell her when I go back home” Shireen says with a scowl. What does Sansa think? That her mother is going to coddle her with a cup of warm cocoa and present her with a wreath of flowers or something? Because this is definitely not happening. She just really doesn’t see the point in calling her. It will just be more embarrassment, and she’s had more than enough for the rest of her life.

“Is there anything you would like to ask then? About periods?” Sansa asks gently.

“I know about periods” Shireen snaps. 

“I have to say you’re taking all this really well” Sansa says as she leaves the basin with the soaked panties next to the washing machine. “I think I cried a little when my mum told me I really had gotten my period”

_Well, I’m not such a cry-baby_ , Shireen thinks, but she bites her tongue and only gives Sansa a shrug.

Shireen is mad at her dad for the rest of the day, although she manages to keep her feelings to herself. Even if she showed it though, she’s not sure if he would notice. He’s a little distracted and acting weird from the moment she told him what had happened. The only one acting normally is Sansa, who goes through the day with her usual ease, pretending that absolutely nothing happened, and looks at Shireen as if she never touched her dirty panties. And oddly enough, Shireen finds that it works. There are moments where she actually forgets about the whole incident. Until she looks at her father and remembers it all again.

//

She realizes how private her father and Sansa were about their relationship only when they become more public with it. Myrcella is not the only one to comment on it. On a rare visit to Winterfell, little Rickon asks her if her dad is going to marry Sansa, to which Shireen answers with an emphatic no. On the same visit, Arya mentions how it’s nice to see Sansa annoy someone else instead of her for a change, which makes everyone uncomfortable, including Shireen. Her uncle Renly muses on a family barbecue how he’s the only Baratheon left who’s not besotted with the Starks and wonders if he should make a move on Robb, which earns him a smack on the head with an oven mitten from Loras. Uncle Robert’s comments are too embarrassing to even think about. 

The Seaworths prove to be the only ones who act as normal as ever. The first time Sansa joins Shireen and her father for dinner at the Seaworths, Davos and Marya greet them all as if they’ve been doing this for years. Devan and the other kids take a brief look at Sansa before they return in their rooms to play, without asking any questions. Devan is one of Shireen’s best friends – one of the few boys she can tolerate. And now that he demonstrates such a spectacular lack of interest in Sansa, she just likes him even more.

Her mother is one of the last few people to find out, which Shireen realizes in hindsight it’s a big mistake on her part. Her mother’s rant is what makes her think so. She says that she’s only upset, but Shireen thinks she’s actually angry, that she had to find out about such a thing from others. It reflects badly on her, she says; it makes her look like she doesn’t have a good relationship with her daughter and does Shireen understand how bad that looks? Shireen doesn’t, but she nods anyway. When her mother asks her why she didn’t tell her earlier, Shireen decides to tell her the truth: that she didn’t know what to say. Her mother rolls her eyes. She tells her she needs to know about such things – not the details, but she needs to know if her daughter is spending so much time with a stranger. She then asks her how she feels about Sansa. Shireen gets a little uncomfortable with the question. No matter what she thinks of Sansa, she doesn’t think she should be talking about it with her mum. In the end, she says Sansa is alright. Her mother continues ranting about how Stannis shouldn’t be dragging his daughter in the mess of his mid-life crisis, but Shireen stops paying attention – she always zones out when her mother starts badmouthing her father.

//

She wakes up in the middle of the night, and she hears noises coming from somewhere in the otherwise silent house. At first she doesn’t understand what it is, and for a moment she has the crazy idea that someone has broken in the house. But as she strains her ears to listen, scared and excited all at once, she thinks she recognizes Sansa’s voice. It sounds muffled and inarticulate, and it really confuses Shireen. She doesn’t understand why Sansa is making these noises in the middle of the night. She gets off the bed and walks to her door, trying to listen better. Her heart sinks, because now Sansa sounds like she’s in pain. But why?

Shireen freezes and the hairs on her neck stand up. What if her father is hurting Sansa? But how could he? She can never imagine him hurting her, but the sounds coming from outside cannot be mistaken, can they? She stands in front of her door for some time, wondering what she should do, wishing that the noises would stop and Sansa wouldn’t be in pain any more, but the volume only increases. In the end, she does the only thing she dares do. She opens the door of her room and closes it loudly, then crosses the living room as clumsily as she can to go to the bathroom. In the return to her room she makes noise again, but Sansa’s voice is not heard any more. She goes to bed feeling a little shaken, wondering if there is anything else she could have done.

In the morning both her father and Sansa are in a good mood. They don’t talk about the night before, and Shireen decides not to say anything either.

//

For her twelfth birthday, her father takes her on a four-day trip to Oldtown. They spend their mornings in the various renowned museums and art galleries of the city, and in the afternoons they stroll around the actual old town, with its cobbled streets and tiny bridges over the canals. Shireen is in love with this city, with how beautiful and historical it looks. But most of all she loves having her father all to herself finally, to be able to share their silence again, or talk to him without worrying that a certain someone will try to jump in the conversation. And yet there are times during the trip where she sees something and can’t help but think that Sansa would like it, or would have something funny to say about it.

On the third day, which is her actual birthday, her father gives her a present, telling her it’s from Sansa. Shireen tears the wrapping paper suspiciously. As she had already guessed from the weight and shape of the present, it turns out to be a book. She looks at the cover, and reads the author and the title in disbelief. 

“She remembered hearing you say you liked the Hobbit” her father says in answer to her confused look. 

Shireen says thank you and feels a little foolish, because Sansa is not there to hear it.

“And this is from me. Sansa says it’s a trilogy, and knowing you, you will have finished the first one in a couple of weeks. You can expect the third one as a Christmas present” her father says and puts another heavy present on top of that of Sansa’s. Shireen thanks him and opens it, even though he has spoiled the surprise. He’s not one to create suspense, is what she’s come to understand about him.

“Why didn’t she come with us?” Shireen asks awkwardly as she runs her fingers over her lovely, bulky presents. She can almost feel the characters breathing under the book covers.

“We both thought that you and I should spend some alone time together” her father says stiffly.

Shireen nods. It’s like Sansa has given her three birthday presents: the book, not tagging along on the trip, and not buying her something horrible, like a _skirt_.

“I know your e-book reader is very practical, but I’m glad you’re still reading actual books” her father says after a while, and Shireen smiles, because it’s another thing they have in common – a love for paper. 

“Mum says it’s more expensive to buy me books than to clothe me” Shireen says. Her father opens his mouth, probably angered by Selyse’s comment, but he seems to reconsider and closes his mouth again.

“Your mother doesn’t need to worry. If your cultivation is such a burden to her, I’ll be happy to take over” he finally says, the slightest hint of sarcasm in his voice.

She closes her eyes and smiles. In this moment, in this place, she is really, really happy.


	4. age twelve (part one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shireen wishes she could keep her mouth shut more often / Myrcella is ruthless at UNO / bad stuff happens

Sansa won’t shut up about her new job – fourth grade teacher in a prestigious, private elementary school. She often mentions how she feels a little awkward about the fact her father put in a good word for her, on account of the headmaster being an old friend, but then she invariably distracts herself by talking about the facilities of the school and how the high-tech equipment they have will really enrich the lessons. She keeps saying how rewarding it will be to help the children in their first steps into the world.

“I would never become a teacher” Shireen cuts in on one of Sansa’s frequent ramblings between bites of her pasta alla Genovese. It’s early September and the weather is still warm enough to sit outside for dinner.

“Why not?” Sansa asks curiously, her fork halfway to her mouth, probably glad that Shireen has for once willingly contributed in a conversation.

“Because I see what we do to our teachers; what we think of them. They think we like them because we behave ourselves and don’t say stuff to their faces, but the moment they turn their backs…” Shireen trails off, allowing Sansa to imagine the worst.

“That will not be the case for Sansa” her father says firmly, and gives a squeeze to Sansa’s hand resting on the table. She smiles gratefully.

“Oh, we do it even to the ones we like” Shireen insists. She feels the slightest pang of guilt when she sees that Sansa’s smile has wilted a little.

//

“Myrcella, you little skank! Will you stop dumping Draw Fours on me?” Renly says dramatically and Myrcella cackles.

“Get over it, Renly” she says and watches gleefully as her uncle takes more cards from the deck. He’ll never get rid of them with that rate. Shireen observes her cards quietly, glad that Myrcella has found someone else to torment.

Renly becomes their favourite the older they grow. They get their parents to let them spend time with him and Loras whenever it’s possible, because he’s so much _fun_. He’s a little over the top with most things, and he swears a lot, although coming from him it doesn’t sound nearly as vulgar as from other people. He doesn’t let them call him uncle – he says he’s too young and too cool for that. Loras on the other hand is more than fine with it. Shireen wonders if it makes him feel more of a part of the family.

On the last round, both Myrcella and Renly do their best to change the color of the cards to what they think she doesn’t have. Shireen throws her last card on the table triumphantly. It’s a Wildcard.

“Dude” Myrcella says. It’s her new favourite word, probably because aunt Cersei hates it.

“That’s actually devious” Renly says.

“How did you even think of that?” Myrcella asks. She’s so distracted she hasn’t found time to get upset over the fact she’s lost.

“Learned it from Sansa. If your last card is a wildcard, no one can stop you” Shireen says with a smug smile.

“Does your father know his girlfriend is corrupting you like that?” Renly teases. The fact that it wasn’t Myrcella the one to win is enough to keep him in good spirits. From the kitchen, Loras shouts that the brownies are almost ready.

//

Bran’s accident happens a little before the Christmas holidays. It’s one of those rare Fridays where Shireen’s dad could leave work a little earlier and let her stay for an extra night. It’s the evening and she’s sitting on the dining table, on a half-hearted attempt to do some of her math homework. They’ve started learning about equations now, but Shireen couldn’t care less about the x. 

When Sansa calls, Shireen thinks it’s just to let her father know she’s on her way to them or to tell him something sugary sweet that Shireen would rather not hear. It’s clear from the start though, just from looking at her dad’s posture stiffen, that this is not one of those calls. He keeps telling Sansa to stay where she is, to not even think about driving in her situation.

“Put on your shoes and jacket” he tells Shireen in a clipped tone when he gets off the phone. He’s already walking to the foyer, looking for his coat.

“What happened?” Shireen asks as she puts on her welly boots. Her father stops in his tracks, and his expression softens slightly.

“Bran has had an accident. We need to take Sansa to Winterfell”

They drive to Sansa’s apartment in complete silence, but this time it’s not comfortable or companionable. It’s something cold and lonely, and Shireen can see the muscles on her father’s face getting tenser every minute.

Sansa is waiting outside her apartment block and rushes to the car before they even reach her block properly. She doesn’t greet either of them, just tells Shireen’s father to hurry as much as he can, then proceeds to tell him what she knows of the accident. Apparently Bran was coming back home from a friend’s house, when a car hit him and left him on the road without calling for help. Theon Greyjoy, a friend of the Stark kids, was the one to find Bran. He was on his way to the Stark house, to borrow Robb’s old laptop.

The drive to Winterfell feels longer than usual, although they manage to make it under an hour. Sansa is constantly talking on the phone with her parents, trying to get updates on the situation. She tells Stannis and Shireen everything when she gets off the phone, even though they’ve already heard the conversation. On the rare moments she’s not on the phone and there is no news to convey she’s extremely quiet, but Shireen can see her body pulsing with energy that is hardly contained. On those moments, Stannis tries to put his hand on Sansa’s shoulder in a reassuring way, but the young woman’s mind is a million miles away. Shireen herself feels oddly calm, as if everything around her happens in a dream or in a film she’s watching. It doesn’t feel real. 

It all gets real in the hospital, with the force of a slap. Only half of the family is there, Catelyn and Ned out of their minds, Theon still in his bloodstained clothes in a state of shock, Robb trying to put on a brave face and comfort everyone. Arya is on her way too, on a flight from Harrenhall where she just started university. Jon is informed about the accident, but is unfortunately unable to abandon his duty as park ranger at the national park at the Gift. Rickon is home with Robb’s fiancée, too young to be exposed to all this. The moment they see the Starks, Sansa lets out a cry the likes of which Shireen has never heard in her life, and runs to her mother’s open arms, already sobbing. They all huddle together, half-crying and half-murmuring things, trying to give courage to each other, hoping that the others will have more, perhaps enough to lend them some and help them through it all. Shireen and Stannis stand on the side a little awkwardly, not sure what to do. It takes Shireen some time before she can register that her father is holding her hand.

It is the longest night in Shireen’s life, and one of the strangest experiences as well. There are many moments where she feels like there is a barrier between her and the rest of the world. Her thoughts are clear and her heart is calm and she feels as if she’s watching the Starks behind a glass wall. She can see them, but their agony bounces on the glass surface and never touches Shireen. And there are other times where the sounds and smells of the hospital are overwhelming and Catelyn’s now quiet sobs pierce her eardrums. It is strange to see all these people so lost. It is disconcerting to see her own father so obviously helpless. But the scariest thing of all is watching Sansa, always bright and beautiful and positive, now falling apart little by little. Shireen tries not to look at her, she tries to ignore her empty stare and repetitive prayers, and she tries not to think what will happen to her, to all of them, if Bran doesn’t make it. There are moments when she just wants to run away, but deep down she knows that if anyone suggested she went home with Rickon, she would protest until they let her stay. She doesn’t know why, but she feels she must be here.

She can’t remember ever spending so much time doing nothing – just sitting, waiting, staring at white plastic clocks on the wall. With every passing hour Shireen feels the sense of dread increasing. There is a terrible stillness and quiet now, everyone lost in their own thoughts. It strikes her how important physical closeness is– Ned is hugging his wife protectively, while Theon’s hand is gripping Robb’s shoulder like a vice. Shireen’s father is holding both her and Sansa, and his body against Shireen’s feels tighter than a bowstring. The only time the stillness is disrupted is when a nurse or doctor appears and everyone gets up at once, trying to get some update. Shireen doesn’t understand much, just that Bran is lucky to still be alive with all the broken bones and internal bleeding.

“We shouldn’t have named him Brandon” Catelyn says late at night to no one in particular. “It’s such an unlucky name”

And Shireen suddenly remembers Sansa talking about her uncle Brandon, how handsome he was and what a tragedy it was to lose him so young, before he could achieve the greatness everyone knew him capable of. And then, wondering how she could ever have forgotten, she remembers people talking of Lyanna, who died in a car accident with her boyfriend Rhaegar, leaving little Jon an orphan, and she remembers her own father’s parents, who died in exactly the same manner and left her father an orphan at the age of fourteen. She looks at him, his jaw clenched so tight she thinks the muscles of his face are going to snap, and she looks at Sansa, her eyes still red though she hasn’t cried in a long time and her complexion sickly under the hospital lights. She feels a pit in her stomach as she wonders what it’s like to have a thing like this define your life, drag its weigh for years and then have it come and hurt you again later in life, because once is never enough.

Arya arrives only a few minutes before the doctor does, and so everyone is already standing up and ready to ambush dr. Mullin. There are sighs and incoherent cries when he informs them that Bran is finally stable and out of danger. The Starks all hug each other tightly, their relief so tangible that Shireen feels it washing over her too, and over her father as well, whose tense body visibly relaxes.

“Stannis, thank you _so much_ for everything” Sansa says in a muffled voice as she hugs Shireen’s father tightly and hides her face on the crook of his neck. She has started crying again now, which Shireen finds strange, because the news are finally good.

“And Shireen, thank you too, I’m sorry you had to go through this, but thank you-” Sansa is not making much sense as she sits next to Shireen to draw her in a hug. Shireen is taken by surprise because she’s never really hugged Sansa before, but she wraps her arms around the young woman’s thin waist and even strokes her back a little. Sansa hugs her more tightly. She is sobbing now, and the sobs are making her entire body shake, and Shireen just can’t take it anymore –the worry and the unspoken fear and the long wait- and she starts crying too, holding Sansa as if her life depends on it.

She doesn’t know how much time passes before they break their embrace – she only knows that when they do they are both out of tears and Shireen feels _exhausted_. It doesn’t take long for her to fall asleep, despite the lights and noise all around her.

She half-wakes at the odd feeling of changing hands. In her sleep she is aware that she has left her father’s hard, angular embrace for someone else’s – someone soft in his roughness and familiar in his faint smell of tobacco and salt. She falls into oblivion again, feeling safe in the hands of Davos.

//

When Shireen wakes up, she feels a little lost for a moment. It takes her a few seconds to realise she’s at the Seaworths’house in King’s Landing, in Maric’s old room. She remembers what a mystery this room was for her and Devan when they were younger – how Maric would shoo them and never let them in, telling them he had no time for little kids. She looks around now, a little disappointed. She and Devan would not have discovered anything interesting if Maric had let them in.

Davos comes in after knocking on the door. He sits on the edge of her bed and gives her one of those gentle smiles she knows so well. Like everything in her father’s life, he has been a given for her too, a constant. She asks why she’s here – why she’s not at her dad’s place. Davos explains to her that her father thought he should stay at the hospital through the night, so he had Davos come and take Shireen back in King’s Landing. She nods, because she’s too tired to even get jealous because her dad preferred to stay with Sansa. Memories of last night resurface, and she randomly feels like crying again. Marya and the boys come in the room, to bring her some breakfast. Marya kisses the top of her head, and Devan gives her a nudge, but Shireen knows what he means. She tries to eat, but that stupid knot is blocking her throat again. She tries to hold back the tears, but in the end it’s pointless and she lets them streak her face again. They all sit around her, Marya clicking her tongue soothingly, and soon Shireen feels better.

Later she talks on the phone with her dad, who promises her he will be back in King’s Landing in a couple of hours. She asks if everyone’s alright, to which he answers with a simple yes. There are a lot of pauses in the conversation, a lot of things they could say but they don’t. They never mention love and Shireen rarely thinks about it- that she loves him. But the thought occurs to her now quite clearly –that she loves her father _so very much_ – and she doesn’t know why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is never going to be part of the story, but just for fun, can you guess who is involved in Bran's hit and run?


	5. age twelve (part two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shireen gets better at this Sansa thing / books are the best conversation starters / Renly and Loras have an announcement to make

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I feel like the other Baratheons are hijacking this story and making it more of a general Baratheon - Stark story, rather than a Shireen-Stannis-Sansa story, but I'm just rolling with it.  
> In other news, I have a new tumblr. So, if you want to be buds there, it would be nice. Absolutely no pressure though. I can assure you my account is and will remain rather underwhelming. Anyway, I go by the name octarinesunsets, because darkstark was taken. Which means someone out there knows about tumblr, but probably doesn't know about AO3. Ha! Joke's on them.

They move Bran from Winterfell to the King’s Landing Memorial Hospital once he’s stable enough, because both the pediatrics and orthopedics departments are better there. Shireen sees almost nothing of Sansa for days on end – as the only Stark who actually lives in King’s Landing, a lot of the responsibilities regarding Bran have fallen on her, and she spends the entirety of her free time at the hospital. Shireen also goes often to the hospital with her father, and each time they visit there are different people there. Uncle Robert sometimes brings Myrcella and Tommen to see Bran, though Shireen has never seen aunt Cersei with them. Arya often comes down from Winterfell with her parents, and sometimes she even stays over at Sansa’s place. Robb and Theon come when work permits it, but Jon is still stuck at the Gift. 

Spending so much time at her dad’s place without Sansa is actually strange. Though it’s nice to fall back to old routines and do their own things, Shireen finds to her surprise that she’s not entirely satisfied. The apartment feels too quiet, too still and too grey without Sansa, and every conversation or activity with her dad feels half-hearted on both sides. She can see her dad is restless; she can see the creases on his brow deepen again and she can hear the unpleasant sound of his teeth grinding. When his silence she used to love so much draws too long, she catches herself wishing they could go back to where they were before, with Sansa wiping her father’s worries from his face with a radiant smile and filling the rooms with her music and her laughter. But every time they see her in the hospital now, there are black circles under her eyes and her skin looks thin and more transparent than usual.

“Hey, Shireen” Sansa says with a tired smile. They are at the hospital again. Ned, Cat and Rob are with Bran. Sansa is taking a small break, drinking the horrible tea from the vending machine. Her hair, tied in a loose ponytail, looks a little greasy at the roots and her clothes are a plain pair of jeans and a hoodie. Shireen can’t remember ever seeing her dressed with so little care.

Shireen says hi and then stays silent as her father and Sansa exchange a few words. It is quite ironic actually. Before Bran’s accident there were often times when she could think of something interesting to tell Sansa, but would just choose not to. Now she feels like she should be talking more to her, but she finds she doesn’t know what to say to this tired, distracted version of her, who probably doesn’t feel like dealing with Shireen’s moods. 

She realizes that her dad and Sansa have stopped talking, and an uncomfortable silence has fallen again. Shireen winces. For most of her life she has felt like she missed one of the most important lessons taught in school – how to behave around people. Perhaps it was the day she had to stay home with a fever that they taught it. She’s pretty sure that everyone else _knows_. She looks awkwardly at Sansa, trying to think of something to say. Then she remembers something.

“Do you want some?” she asks Sansa, taking a bar of dark chocolate out of her jacket’s pocket. It’s the only kind she’s allowed to eat in her dad’s presence.

Sansa looks at her blankly, as if she doesn’t quite understand what she’s saying, and Shireen feels her face getting a little hot. She awkwardly waves the chocolate bar in front of Sansa, as if that explains everything. 

“It has a caramel and almonds filling” she adds.

“Oh” Sansa says then, her eyes gaining focus again. “Yes, I would like some. Thank you” she says, and her voice doesn’t sound as flat as before. Shireen busies herself with opening the wrapping and breaking a big chunk of chocolate for Sansa. She is only mildly aware of her father standing close to them.

//

In all the years she’s spent between two households, she’s often felt like she has led a double life, only it’s infinitely less cool than that of spies. She doesn’t really tell her father what she does during the week, and she doesn’t tell her mother how she spends her weekends. The problem is, she can’t mention activities and completely omit people involved in said activities, and she noticed early on how both her parents wince at the mention of their former partner. And so Shireen keeps silent, and only assures her father that she’s had a good week, and her mother that she’s had a good weekend. She knows her father doesn’t want to know about anything that involves her mother. And she feels that her mother doesn’t deserve to know anything about her father if she is to start making comments about him.

She tells her about Bran though, because she feels it’s too big and important to not mention. Her mother tells her she’s sorry, and Shireen knows she means it. There is a pregnant pause, and then her mother asks her if Shireen wants her to drive her to the hospital sometime, to visit Bran. Shireen refuses immediately, saying she’ll be visiting with her dad. Selyse nods, looking somewhat – relieved? She then tells her daughter to give her best wishes to the Starks, and though Shireen mumbles she will, she can’t see herself actually doing it.

//

One of the rare times that Sansa is home now, she asks Shireen if she would like to come visit Bran for his birthday. The rest of the family will be there too, including Myrcella and Tommen. Shireen is a little surprised, and though she suspects this isn’t something Bran himself has requested, she supposes it can’t be that bad if Myrcella is there too, so she says yes.

On the afternoon of the winter solstice she arrives at the hospital with her dad and a present for Bran. When they arrive at his ward, Sansa is the only one there. Her hair looks soft and shiny, falling in beautiful curls around her shoulders, she’s wearing a beautiful dark green dress and she even has some make-up on. Shireen smiles and hopes this means that things are getting back to normal.

Sansa greets them cheerfully, and tells them her family is on their way from Winterfell and should be arriving soonish. But Shireen and Stannis can come in and say happy birthday to Bran, right?

Bran is propped up on his pillows and gives them a nod when they come in his room. Shireen and her dad wish him a happy birthday, both sounding a little uncertain. Bran says thank you and smiles a small smile. For a thirteen year old who has almost had a fatal accident and has underwent a painful and risky spinal surgery to make sure he won’t lose the use of his legs, he’s taking everything remarkably well, or so Shireen thinks.

“Do you mind if we leave you kids here to go outside and talk a little?” Sansa asks, and both she and Shireen’s dad are moving towards the door before getting an answer. Both Bran and Shireen shrug. It’s not like they’re really asking for their permission.

Shireen looks around awkwardly when her dad and Sansa get out. She’s never really been alone with Bran before, and she can’t remember ever having a conversation with him that was longer than a couple of sentences and didn’t involve any other person.

“You can sit, you know” Bran says, giving her a quizzical look, and then nodding to the chair next to his bed. Shireen shrugs again as if it’s not a big deal, she’s cool, but she sits next to him.

“I – um- this is for your birthday” she says, and gives him the present she’s been holding all this time.

“Oh. Thanks” Bran says flatly, but he starts tearing the wrapping paper immediately. “ _The children of Hurin_? You got me _The children of Hurin_?” he asks incredulously when the book cover is revealed.

“Well, yes. I thought you might like it” Shireen says and her eyes fall on Bran’s side table as an explanation. _The Silmarillion_ is standing on top of a pile of his schoolbooks.

“Have you even read anything of Tolkien?” Bran asks suspiciously as he flicks through the pages of his new book. He has the same hungry gleam in his eyes she supposes she has when she gets something new to read.

“Yes, I have. I’m finishing _The return of the king_ now” Shireen replies a little testily. What’s with boys and not accepting that a girl might like fantasy stuff too? Devan had had a similar reaction.

“Cool” Bran says with a grin. “Hey, was it you who got me _Redwall_ last year?”

“Uh, yes” Shireen says a little absentmindedly. The door in Bran’s room is open, and from where she’s sitting she can see her father and Sansa in the corridor.

“Do you know you’re the only one who got me a book? You’d think my friends would know me a little better, but anyway… Yes, the book. At first I was like, what? Talking mice? In an abbey? Weird! But then I started reading it and it was really awesome. I even got some of the other books in the series, I don’t know if you’ve read _Mattimeo_ , but-”

They’re standing close to each other, and Sansa’s head is tilted up, because she may be tall but she’s not as tall as Stannis. Shireen is struck once again by how dissimilar they look – like two puzzle pieces that could never match. Her father is not that old, but he already has more grey in his hear than black, and his hairline keeps receding. His face is lined and he looks like he doesn’t get out in the sun as much as he should. And he’s always so grave. Sansa on the other hand looks terribly young by his side even now that she’s so tired and distracted by everything. Her skin is still fresh and unblemished, her eyes sparkling with some secret joy, and her lips look soft and rosy even when they only talk about drugs and physiotherapy. They’re just so _different_.

“Hey, are you listening?” Bran asks suddenly.

“What? Yes, I also think the part at Lomheadge was creepy” she says, turning to look at him for a moment. He looks more animated now than what he did when they first got into his room.

“Yeah, so when Malkariss is about to kill Matthias with his own sword and-”

Her father is holding Sansa by the elbow and is saying something to her even as he’s leaning down to kiss her. Shireen can see the smile on his lips before it hides in Sansa’s lips. Suddenly Shireen realizes why Sansa is well dressed today. It’s Bran’s birthday. Which is when everything started for her father and Sansa, so they obviously have picked this day as their anniversary. _Obviously_. Gods, it’s been a _year_? 

“I was thinking about reading _Mossflower_ next, what do you think?” she asks Bran, deciding to focus on him. She can already hear the horde of Starks approaching. Bran must know they’re coming too, but he seems perfectly happy to ignore them until he’s done telling Shireen what he thinks of _Mossflower_.

She doesn’t know how, but she knows her father is going to come and tell her that he and Sansa are going to go away for a couple of hours or so, and is going to ask her if she’ll be fine here with the Starks. And she knows she will say that it’s absolutely fine, that she’ll just hang out here. And she knows she will mean it when she says it. What she’s learned from making puzzles is that every once in a while there will be two pieces that look completely incompatible, and most of the picture will be completed before you give them a try because you’re running out of options. And then you find that though they don’t look it, they’re a perfect fit.

//

Renly had insisted on a family dinner after the holidays. Shireen’s dad had complained that he didn’t see the point since they’d already had a bunch of family get-togethers during Christmastime, but Renly was adamant. Shireen is really glad about it, because now she gets to eat Loras’s delicious food – guinea hens baked with potatoes, carrots and pumpkin in the oven – and sit next to Myrcella and giggle with her every time Renly finds a way to make Loras look away and steal a bite from his plate. Sansa has of course come along, looking more and more like herself since the doctors told them Bran could soon return home and continue his therapy there. Aunt Cersei is oddly absent. Margaery is also there, and at first Shireen wonders why, until she gets it and feels like facepalming herself. It is a family dinner; and she is Loras’s sister. _Duh_. It is just that Shireen is so used to thinking of Loras as part of the Baratheon family, that she often forgets he has quite a few realtives of his own back in the Reach.

“So, we’re getting married” Renly says airily at some point during the dinner.

Everyone sort of laughs, because he says it so randomly.

“We were hoping for some tears of joy” Loras says with a playful smile, setting down his fork and knife. He also seems to be caught a little off guard by Renly’s announcement.

“Wait… you’re actually getting married?” Sansa asks carefully.

“Yes, you dummies. That’s what we’re telling you!” Renly says a little impatiently. He’s flailing his hands as he talks, which he almost always does, and he almost spills the wine from the glass he’s holding.

“This is so _cool_!” Myrcella squeals, and Shireen agrees hastily. Uncle Renly and uncle Loras have been together since _forever_.

“In that case, congratulations are in order” Shireen’s father says in a completely serious tone.

“Ha! This is great!” her uncle Robert booms. “Congratulations! Renly, mother and father would be very happy, even if this is probably not what they had in-”

“Seven hells, Robert, how many times do we need to discuss this?” Shireen’s dad cuts in, shooting daggers at his older brother. Renly and Loras just sort of roll their eyes, and Shireen is not quite sure what’s going on.

“You don’t seem very surprised” Sansa tells Margaery, who is indeed sitting quietly, sipping at her bubbly.

“Oh, they already told all of us when we were down at Highgarden for the holidays” Margaery says with a smirk.

“What! And we find out so much later!” uncle Robert says indignantly.

“Probably because Loras’s family is a lot more tactful than mine” Renly says with a suspiciously sweet voice.

“Gmh. So… when’s the wedding?” Uncle Robert asks sheepishly.

“We’ve settled for June” Loras says, looking at Renly. They smile at each other, and for a moment Shireen is certain they don’t know there are other people in the room, or in the entire universe for that matter.

“But that’s only four months away or so!” uncle Robert protests again.

“Yeah, when are you going to prepare everything?” Myrcella pipes up.

“Most things are already settled actually. We have plenty of time for the details” Loras says happily.

“So you’ve been planning this for months and you didn’t tell-”

“ _Gods_ , Robert!” both Renly and Stannis say in exasperation. Margaery is actually clapping her mouth with her palm, trying to hold back her laughter. Shireen and Myrcella get the urge to laugh just by looking at her.

“You know what this means, right?” Sansa asks Shireen with a smile while the three brothers bicker with each other. “You get to buy a new, beautiful dress!”

Suddenly, Shireen doesn’t feel like laughing anymore. Dresses are the _enemy_.


	6. age twelve (part three)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa takes clothes seriously / Shireen faces the demons of shopping and survives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, life is not cooperating right now.  
> I decided to split this chapter in two because with the wedding it would get too big. I will post the second part tomorrow.

“I said I’m not getting a new suit”

“Stannis, it’s your brother’s wedding!” Sansa insists, still quite patient as Shireen detects.

“Look at this” he says impatiently, and Shireen hears the sound of his wardrobe’s doors being opened “they’re all bespoke, excellent quality, and still as good as new.”

“They’re all grey and black” Sansa says flatly.

“Because I can _see_ grey and black!”

“You can see blue too, but I don’t see any navy suits in here” Sansa insists unfazed.

“For the love of the gods I don’t believe in, stop pestering me about this, woman!” Shireen’s father says in an exasperated tone.

“Stannis” she says steadily. Her voice is sweet, but Shireen inexplicably thinks of an iron fist donned with a velvet glove.

“Yes?”

“You’re getting a new suit. I don’t care when and I don’t care how. I don’t even have to be there when you buy it if you don’t want me to. But you’re getting one, and it’s going to be navy.”

Shireen’s dad storms off from his bedroom, flailing his arms helplessly, but he stands still when he sees Shireen sitting on one of the couches, a book on her lap.

“What?” he barks irritated.

“Nothing” she says as somberly as she can, but she’s actually trembling from the effort to suppress her laughter.

“I would expect more support from you” he says accusingly.

“I’m sorry, this is just…” she doesn’t even know what she’s trying to say, because she’s too concentrated on not laughing.

“Fine. In case I need to remind you, you’re still getting a dress”

She groans, because this is just _petty_.

//

“How about this one?”

“I don’t know”

“This one?”

Shireen looks at the dress Sansa is holding. “I’m not getting anything pink”

“Alright. Not pink. What do you think of this one?”

She shakes her head and scowls. They’ve been looking for dresses only for about ten minutes and Shireen is already bored and annoyed. This whole thing is so pointless. Even if she finds a dress that she likes, she’s going to look like a complete idiot wearing it. Dresses are for girls like Myrcella, and women like Sansa. People who were born to look good even if they wore a trash bag. Sansa continues to pick out dresses and ask for Shireen’s opinion, who rejects almost everything. Sometimes Sansa agrees with her and puts the dress in question back on the rack, but other times she drapes it over her arm, saying that Shireen should probably try it on before rejecting it. 

The whole situation is even weirder for Shireen because she and Sansa are completely alone. Her father had the very convenient excuse of work to not come with them, and in the end Shireen had opted not to ask Myrcella to tag along, because having to deal with two goddesses at once would be too much for her.

In the dressing room of the third shop they’ve been in, she is torn between kicking the mirror and crying. It’s the third dress she’s tried on here –red, with a black ribbon on the waist and some tulle on the skirt- and she looks like a goddamn ladybug. It’s hot in here and she’s getting sweaty, and the way the fabric clings on her sticky skin makes her feel like her body is just not made for dresses. She looks like a hideous, overgrown baby, with a flabby belly, flabby arms, a chest which is making a very obvious and embarrassing attempt at breasts, and hair _everywhere_. This is something that started happening quite unexpectedly after she started getting her period. She just got covered in fur overnight, or at least that’s what it felt like to her. She sighs. The thing is, she can hide her shape and the hair under long trousers and hoodies. But she can’t exactly hide her face, can she? She looks at her reflection in the mirror now and feels actual anger boiling up inside her. It seems like her features are scattered around on her face without much care or thought –and she has the suspicion that someone rearranges them every night and she sees a differently hideous face each morning. And as if that wasn’t enough, she has stupid acne that cannot be hidden with concealer, and she can’t even smile properly or eat anything in public without too much care, because now she has braces, the cherry on top of her miserable cake.

“Are you alright in there, Shireen?” Sansa asks from the other side of the curtain.

“It doesn’t fit” she says, not bothering to go out. She really doesn’t feel like doing a stupid twirl and showing anyone how wrong this looks.

“Mind if I come in?” Sansa asks gently. Shireen doesn’t say anything, but silence seems to mean yes in Sansa’s books because she pulls the curtain a little to the side and gets in the dressing room with Shireen, which thankfully is big enough for the two of them.

“Now, this isn’t so bad” Sansa says with an encouraging smile when she takes a look at Shireen.

“I couldn’t even zip it properly” Shireen says with a grimace.

“Well, we can always find a bigger size if you like it” Sansa says, her smile still in place.

“No. I don’t want it in a bigger size. I don’t want this or any other dress. I just want to not look stupid” Shireen says bitterly.

“Shireen, you don’t look stupid!” Sansa retorts.

“ _Look_ at me!” Shireen says, a little louder than she meant to, because she’s getting so frustrated.

“Shireen” Sansa says seriously and she presses her lips together. She sits on the stool of the dressing room, to be on the same eye-level with her. “I understand how you feel. This is a strange age, and it can often make you feel like you don’t belong in your own skin, or that you will never look right in anything, but believe me, this isn’t true. It’s just a phase. Believe me, I know”

“Oh yeah? Did you ever have to wear braces? Or did you ever have acne like mine?” Shireen asks sullenly.

“No, not really” Sansa says calmly. She doesn’t turn her eyes from Shireen.

“Didn’t think so. I’ve seen your pictures. It was always easy for you” she says bitterly, and to her horror she feels that familiar lump forming in her throat again. The dressing room is _so stuffy_.

“Would you say Arya is beautiful?” Sansa asks quite unexpectedly, as if she didn’t hear what Shireen said.

“Yes” Shireen says without much thought. She looks different than Sansa, a little shorter and wiry, but her dark short crop and grey eyes are striking, and her face is pleasing to those who dare look at her.

“Well, take a look here” Sansa says and takes out her phone. She goes through the stored pictures until she finds what she’s been looking for and gives the phone to Shireen. The girl in the pictures is Arya, about the same age as Shireen is now. But this Arya’s features don’t seem to know where they’re supposed to be, her teeth are just all over the place, and she has a bunch of pimples strewn on her oily skin.

“She’ll probably kill me for showing you these, but what the hell. The point is, this isn’t going to last forever” Sansa says firmly, but Shireen doesn’t feel very reassured.

The thing is, she doesn’t see the point in trying to look better, because she knows she _can’t_. No matter how hard she tries, she will never come to look like Sansa or Myrcella, not even in a million years. It’s not worth the effort, and worse, people will be able to see that she tried, and failed, and that would be _pathetic_. She doesn’t say anything because she doesn’t know how to articulate this, and she doesn’t think that Sansa would understand anyway. But Sansa seems to be reading her thoughts, because she gets up and comes to stand next to Shireen, placing her soft hands on her shoulders.

“Everyone can look good; and everyone should try it, for the sake of their health and their happiness. But you shouldn’t set other people as the standard. You just have to find the things that fit you – you just have to find the ways _you_ can be beautiful” she says, looking at Shireen through the mirror. Shireen looks her in the eyes through the mirror too. She still feels hopelessly charmless, but she manages to swallow the lump in her throat, because she just really wants for once to believe in all this fairy-tale stuff. And at least Sansa didn’t tell her anything about real beauty being on the inside.

They both turn their eyes away, realizing that this was a little too sentimental and stuff, and Sansa starts tugging at the dress, telling Shireen it’s important to find the line that fits her and stick with it, and just try new things as she grows and her body changes. She tells her she has a nice waist and A-line dresses will suit her well.

“There are two rules to clothes shopping” Sansa says matter-of-factly as she gives Shireen a new dress to try on. “One: Always choose the things that look good on you, not what is in fashion right now. Two: Always buy the best quality you can afford”

Shireen loses count of how many dresses she tries on, but the experience is not as disheartening as she had feared. She has always been in a hurry to try on things and chose the least unappealing items whenever she goes shopping with her mother. Selyse doesn’t have much of a fashion sense and she has always treated clothes shopping mostly as a chore. But Sansa stays in the dressing room with Shireen (after the period incident Shireen has little to feel embarrassed about around her), examining each dress carefully, pointing out to Shireen all the ways that it may flatter her or not, taking into account everything from fabric to cut and colour.

In the end Shireen decides on a silvery-grey sleeveless dress with a high neckline and a full skirt that makes a surprisingly good match for her dark hair and dark blue eyes.

“Grey is not an easy colour; you’re lucky you can pull it off” Sansa says proudly, as if it’s some sort of accomplishment on Shireen’s part and not pure happenstance. But Shireen smiles all the same, because she can’t quite believe she’s found something that she both likes and thinks she looks good in.

When they get back home, Sansa insists that Shireen tries the dress on again so that her father can see it too. Both Shireen and her dad are a little weird about it because they just don’t _do_ this sort of thing normally, but they’ve already gotten a taste of Sansa’s determination when it comes to clothing and neither of them feels like defying her. So Shireen goes to her room and changes into her new dress.

She can’t really decipher her father’s expression when he sees her wearing it. He seems a little surprised at first perhaps, and then his muscles twitch and relax again into something unfathomable as she stands awkwardly in the middle of the living room.

“You look good in it” he says finally, and though his expression is serious, his eyes lack their usual hardness.

Shireen doesn’t know how to feel about this – her relationship with her father has never been based on compliments and flattering, especially not for appearance. He’s always pleased when she gets good grades at school or when she thinks of something smart and tells him about it, but he seems to be entirely unconcerned with her looks. So to hear him saying she looks good, well – it’s just weird. But she smiles all the same because –oh, she doesn’t know, it’s just such a nice feeling.

“Sansa helped a lot” she says sheepishly, to which Sansa replies with an incoherent sound of retort, and she walks over to where Shireen is, pulling her hair to the side and talking about all the different hairstyles they can try. Shireen lets her, because she seems to like that sort of stuff, and she herself has to admit she doesn’t mind the attention.

From over Sansa’s shoulder, she can see the faintest smile forming on her dad’s face.


	7. age twelve (part four)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renly and Loras tie the knot / Stannis and Sansa have something to tell Shireen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is officially the longest fic I've ever written, and there's no better way to celebrate than a wedding!  
> Thank you all so much for reading and commenting, it's the greatest motivation to keep writing! ^_^

“… And I promise to love you with all my heart, now and forever. Oh, and I can’t _wait_ for us to do our taxes together!”

There is laughter mixed with sighs as Renly finishes his vows. Garlan, Loras’s best man is actually guffawing, but Brienne, Renly’s best woman, seems caught off guard by her friend’s sense of humour and her neck turns red against the crisp whiteness of her suit. Next to Shireen, her father is grunting, but the sound is lost in the sept. There are so many roses used in the decoration –courtesy of the Tyrells- that the sept looks more like a garden than anything else. Shireen’s dad had only commented on the extravagant cost and expressed his relief that at least the roses were scentless and they wouldn’t all faint from the overwhelming fragrance inside the sept. But Shireen thinks it looks beautiful, especially as the afternoon light falls through the stained glass windows, placing colourful splotches on the mostly white and pale pink roses. Renly is dressed in a black suit with gold details, and Loras is dressed in dark green. They remind Shireen of two giant –albeit stylish- beetles among the flowers.

“Renly” Loras begins to recite his vows and the sept falls quiet again, “You know I love you, and that I will love you forever. All I have to say is, I wish I could go back in time to the day I met you, knowing what I know now, only so that I could have started loving you sooner.”

“Can I kiss this man already?” Renly asks the septon amidst the general “awwwws” from the guests. He smiles brightly, but his voice is tremulous, and even from this distance Shireen can see how Loras’s eyes glisten with tears.

Next to her, Sansa wordlessly places her hand in Stannis’s hand, still looking at the almost married couple, and Shireen’s father holds it tightly, also looking at them. Shireen almost misses her uncles’ kiss watching the way her father’s and Sansa’s fingers entwine.

They spend an obscene amount of time taking pictures after the ceremony. Shireen and Myrcella spend most of the time in the shade, commenting on the guests (Myrcella for some reason finds the squat figure of Olenna Tyrell hilarious), coming out in the sunlight only when they have to be present in the pictures. Shireen usually hates having her pictures taken, and often resorts to pulling faces in a rather illogical attempt to mask her awkwardness, but today she doesn’t mind that much. She looks good - or at least as good as she can look at the present time, with her nice dress and simple, yet elegant hairstyle that Sansa created for her.

Shireen watches as Renly drags both his brothers for a picture, hugging both of them by the waist. Uncle Robert roars with laughter, while Shireen’s father makes a visible effort not to scowl too much. Shireen looks at him and can’t help but smile. She knows his relationship with his brothers is not exactly peachy, but she has noticed he has been a lot less tense around them in the past few months. 

She looks now as her father and Sansa have their picture taken, him of course in his new navy suit that actually looks very good on him, and Sansa looking absolutely gorgeous in an ice-blue, strapless dress. When they beckon Shireen to join them for another picture, the photographer jokes they’re the cold-colour family – hues of blue and grey. Shireen laughs, and then it hits her that they’re taking this picture as a _family_ , but she tries not to think too much about that. She smiles for the picture, keeping her lips firmly shut over her braces.

//

“So, which song do you think they’re going to dance to?” Sansa asks, fiddling with her silver bracelet. They’re at the wedding reception, waiting for the newlyweds to get ready for the first dance.

“Are we placing bets?” Myrcella asks immediately. She’s temporarily moved to their table, although she’s supposed to be sitting at another table with her parents, brothers and uncles from her mother’s side. She just had a fight with her mom and she doesn’t even know why – as Myrcella herself puts it, her mother is having one of her “queen of hearts” days.

“Gods, not everything has to be a competition. We can just take a guess” Shireen snorts and pinches her over her peach chiffon dress.

“Whatever. I’ll go for Madonna then” Myrcella says.

“Ah, good choice! What about you, Shireen?” Sansa asks.

“Pet Shop Boys” she says, feigning certainty.

“Really? Where do you even know that band?” Sansa says with a laugh. “I would probably go with something like Lana Del Rey”

“Um, have you even met our uncles?” Myrcella says, dead serious. “They would take Pet Shop Boys over Llama Del Rey any day of the week”

“What do you say, Stannis?” Sansa asks then, a playful smile on her lips. Shireen’s dad looks at her in shocked surprise, as if he can’t believe someone would ever dare to include him in a guessing game.

“I don’t know” he finally says.

“Oh come on!” Sansa says, giving him a playful nudge. 

“I don’t know, the Beatles?” he says, looking a little panicked.

“I honestly thought you were going to say Vivaldi, or - or Bach, uncle Stannis!” Myrcella says between laughs.

“What? I know a few things too” he says with a dignified scoff. 

“Yeah, you know what Davos taught you at school, you mean” Shireen corrects, and now Myrcella’s cackles are drawing attention from the other tables, but Sansa keeps looking at the man next to her adoringly.

Myrcella manages to compose herself just in time for the first dance to start. It is silly, but they actually all hold their breaths to see if any of them guessed correctly. The first notes of the song break the silence, and Shireen swears she knows it from somewhere.

_“I wanna be your vacuum cleaner”_

“What?” Stannis blurts out, baffled. 

_“Breathing in your dust”_

“Damn” Myrcella breathes as she’s watching Renly and Loras slow-dance, and Shireen agrees with her. Somehow, it makes perfect sense.

_"I wanna be your Ford Cortina  
I won't ever rust"_

“I wanted to dance to that in _my_ wedding” Myrcella sighs then, and Shireen just has to agree with that too – and she doesn’t even think about getting married that much. She watches the newlyweds glide gracefully across the dancefloor, and she can’t help but smile. She also can’t help it that her eyes often skip from her uncles to her father and Sansa, who are both stealing furtive glances at each other.

_“I just wanna be yours”_

//

It is one of the best nights in Shireen’s life so far. She hasn’t really been to many weddings, and so to her the experience is quite new – a bit like an adventure. She spends a big part of the night away from her table, running around with the other kids. The reception hall is also decorated with roses and rose trees, and the kids have fun pretending it’s some sort of forest that they can explore. Despite her bookishness, Shireen has always loved make-believe games, and so she readily tags along with the other kids – mostly Tyrells from the Reach. Myrcella on the other hand is trying to be a little lady and avoids running around and hiding behind potted plants. Shireen doesn’t mind – she feels oddly confident tonight, like somehow anything is possible, and she makes friends easily. One of the kids, Garlan’s older son, takes a special liking to her and keeps following her around all night. Myrcella teases her about it, saying he’s like a puppy, but Shireen thinks she’s probably a little jealous because no one is following _her_ around. Shireen thinks Gordon is cute for a ten-year-old, and she really doesn’t mind the attention. The only bad thing about Gordon is that he doesn’t dance, but that isn’t a problem either. Shireen has plenty of people to dance with – Renly and Loras, who seem to be having the time of their lives, uncle Robert, and of course Myrcella. She doesn’t dance with her father, because this is one more thing they just don’t _do_ , but as she watches him dance stiffly with Sansa, she thinks that they actually look alright together like this, all dressed up and formal. He looks a little younger, and she a little older, and it seems like the puzzle pieces are falling neatly into place now.

She happens to be sitting at her table, gobbling down cake (it’s so delicious she doesn’t even care if it gets stuck on her braces) when it’s time to throw the wedding bouquet. Loras and Renly decide to throw it together, because why wouldn’t they. Shireen stays on her table, despite Myrcella’s efforts to drag her to the spot where all the unmarried women are jostling together. Shireen notices the way Sansa looks at her father, a question in her bright eyes, and the way he nods, half-serious, half-amused, and then Sansa gets up and goes to stand next to Margaery, who hugs her excitedly. It looks like the only unmarried girls in the room not eager to ensure a future marriage are Shireen, eating her cake, and Brienne, standing somewhere to the side and talking with Jaimie, aunt Cersei’s brother. But have they really been talking for hours or are they just assuming this position every time Shireen turns to look at them, just to mess with her?

There are exclamations, and all eyes follow the flower bouquet’s trajectory, passing over extended, eager hands, and landing neatly and purposefully in Sansa’s arms. There is clapping mixed with disappointed grunts and Margaery’s loud cheers. Shireen ignores that, along with uncle Robert’s tipsy attempts at winking at his younger brother, and she only looks at her father, who looks back at her bemusedly, two red spots staining his clean shaven cheeks. Does that mean…?

Sansa and Myrcella return to the table, Sansa babbling incoherently and Myrcella trying to get her hands on the flowers, probably to take a picture with the bouquet. Shireen tries to put her thoughts together to manage some congratulations to Sansa without sounding like a robot, but she gets distracted by aunt Cersei’s voice. She’s talking to Jaime, jabbing her finger on his chest and looking rather angry. Shireen cannot hear exactly what she’s saying over the music and the multitude of other voices in the room, but Jaime looks very irritated, and behind him Brienne is quickly turning as red as a tomato. More and more people start to understand something is going on, until both Loras and Renly decide to intervene and remind aunt Cersei she’s making a spectacle of herself. Shireen looks worriedly at Myrcella, whose stare is fixed on her mother and looks really confused and embarrassed. Shireen’s heart clenches as she sees the obvious distress on her cousin’s face – she can’t even imagine how embarrassing it would be if her own mother caused a scene (she can’t really imagine her father ever doing such a thing). She looks around and notes with relief that Tommen is playing with some of the younger kids and hasn’t noticed anything. And then her eyes search for uncle Robert, who is just sitting at his table, drinking his wine, eating cake, and looking entirely unfazed, and she doesn’t understand why he’s not doing anything.

“I honestly thought it would be Robert who would cause some sort of scene” Renly muses as he slumps in Myrcella’s empty seat. In the end aunt Cersei stormed off, Myrcella ran after her, and Loras ran after Myrcella. Uncle Robert never moved from his table. “He can be really ridiculous when he gets drunk”. Both Shireen’s father and Sansa nod vigorously, as if they know too well what he means. 

“Robert can be full of surprises” Shireen’s dad says succinctly, and Shireen suddenly gets the feeling that the adults would very much like it if she wasn’t present, so that they could discuss what just happened. She scowls, but she decides to join the other kids, and let the adults talk. If she’s lucky, she might hear something from the other tables. 

The night continues as if nothing happened, and even though at some point Shireen gets very sleepy, she doesn’t ask to go home. She lays her head on the table when she’s too tired to play and most of the kids are already half-asleep, and just looks around her blearily. The lights in the room are dim now and the world looks different when it’s sideways. Shireen falls asleep feeling vaguely content, watching her father and Sansa dance, dark blue on light blue, like oceans meeting, like the point where the Shivering Sea meets the Narrow Sea.

//

On the table there is orange juice and toast with butter and honey, and Shireen attacks them happily. She doesn’t understand how some people are not hungry when they wake up in the morning. She is always ravenous.

“There is something we would like to tell you” her father says carefully; he’s still looking at the grapefruit he’s peeling and not at her.

She puts her slice of toast back on her plate, and looks at Sansa. She is smiling, and Shireen can tell she is really excited about something even though she tries to hide it unsuccessfully. She instinctively turns to look at the vase with the wedding bouquet. A week later, it’s still holding on pretty well.

“You’re getting married too” she says flatly.

“What? Oh, no!” Sansa says with a laugh.

“It’s not that” her father says calmly. He has set his peeled grapefruit on his plate and is finally looking at Shireen. “We’ve decided to move in together. That is, Sansa is going to move here” he explains.

“Oh” is all Shireen has to say. Her first reaction is relief, because she was wrong after all – it’s not a wedding. But then she panics a little, because moving in suddenly gets this quality of irrevocability in her mind, like it cannot be undone. She almost wants to ask why they want to do such a thing – aren’t things already going well? What is the point in changing anything? And then, before she says anything stupid, she realizes that they are not asking for her permission or even her opinion. This is just something that is going to happen, and they’re letting her know. And, if she’s being completely honest, it won’t be this world-changing event, because Sansa already spends most of her time here, and Shireen is only around in the weekends, so she _really_ doesn’t have a saying. 

“Okay” she says.

Sansa’s smile becomes wider, and her father gets back to his grapefruit, and Shireen realizes that he was tense before only because he looks so much more relaxed now.

“Okay” she says again, mostly to herself. 

Of all the things that could happen, this really isn’t the end of the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Loras and Renly dance to is of course "I wanna be yours" by Arctic Monkeys.


	8. age thirteen (part one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa thinks she knows what's best for Shireen / Selyse disagrees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry it took me so long to post a new chapter. I should be able to update more regularly from now on.

Sansa moving in is at the same time a big and a small change. It’s small because she doesn’t really bring any furniture with her, and a lot of her things have already been creeping in the apartment for months now, but it’s also big, because whenever Shireen stays for the weekend, it just _feels_ different. It is a little messier than when her father lived on his own, and the feminine touch is becoming more visible, with vases of fresh flowers on the coffee and dinner tables and a few comfy cushions for the sofas that Sansa brought over from the flat she shared with Margaery. Somehow, the _homeness_ of the place is a lot more tangible now than in all the years Shireen has been here.

“Oh gods, you still have that?” she moans when she sees the picture from Blackwater Bay Aquarium sitting on top of the stereo in a tasteful wooden frame.

Pictures are another thing that has made a strong entrance in the apartment ever since Sansa moved in. Shireen’s father never had many around, just a picture of his infant daughter in the living room and an old picture of his parents in his study. But Sansa has now unearthed pictures from his childhood and has put them around the apartment, along with some pictures of the two of them together. Shireen once heard him complain that all they do is gather dust, but so far he hasn’t made any attempt to remove them.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Sansa says absentmindedly from the couch where she’s sitting, studying the lesson plan for the new school year. She’s been given the sixth grade now and she’s really excited to work with slightly older children.

“We just all look so weird here” Shireen says. Looking at the picture is actually painful. It’s not like she looks great now, but she doesn’t look _that_ bad.

“But I like it!” Sansa says, looking up from her photocopies. “It’s our first picture together; you know…” she adds and trails off, blushing a little. 

_Like a family_ , Shireen thinks of the word that Sansa doesn’t quite dare to say yet, the word they have all been tip-toeing around for the last couple of months.

Shireen mumbles something noncommittally, because she can’t really argue with that, but she moves the frames a little so that the picture they have from Loras and Renly’s wedding is more visible than the one from the Aquarium. She looked a lot better at the wedding. They all did.

//

The whole thing starts quite innocently. After a short reprieve, where Shireen’s face cleared a little bit from the acne and she was hopeful that the worst was over, the damned thing returned with a vengeance. Her face now looks more hideous than ever, with large, swollen red pimples that all the make up in the world could not conceal. Everyone can see what she’s trying to hide. Sansa can see it too, because she asks her about it.

“Have you seen a dermatologist? Are you following some treatment?” she asks one afternoon, when she catches Shireen looking listlessly at her reflection in the foyer mirror. She tries to be delicate about it, Shireen understands, but there’s no delicate way to ask someone what they’re doing about their deformities.

“Mum has taken me to a homoeopathist. I’m taking some pills. They have calendula in them I think” she says, feeling rather awkward to mention her mother to Sansa.

“I see” is all that Sansa says, but from the way she presses her lips together, Shireen can detect she would like to say a lot more.

She does say something later that same evening to Shireen’s dad, when she goes to find him in his study. Shireen is in the living room starting a new puzzle, but Sansa has forgotten the study’s door ajar and their voices carry easily in the living room. 

“Could we maybe take Shireen to a dermatologist?” Sansa asks after a pause in the previous conversation.

“A dermatologist? Why?” Shireen’s dad asks, sounding a little surprised.

“Surely you must have noticed her acne is getting worse?” Sansa says gently.

“Er, I thought this was normal for her age?” Shireen’s father says in the tone of someone who has just started suspecting that he may actually be mistaken.

“Yes, it is. But hers doesn’t look like the regular thing. It looks like cystic acne to me, not that I’m an expert, but many of my friends have had it. It’s serious, Stannis. If not treated properly, it can leave permanent scars” Sansa says seriously.

“Really?” her father sounds worried now, and Shireen suddenly feels a little queasy. Anxiety is a feeling she rarely associates with her father, and when she does, it’s only for work related issues, not her. 

“Perhaps Selyse has already taken Shireen to a dermatologist if it’s so serious. I should ask Shireen”

“Selyse is resorting to homoeopathy” Sansa says quietly, but Shireen can detect the reproach in her tone.

“What now? Homoeopathy?” Stannis snorts. “I honestly expected better of Selyse. What is next, she will stop vaccinating my daughter?”

“Perhaps it was not my place to speak” Sansa says hesitantly after a while. “She is your daughter after all”

“No, you did very well to tell me” he says reassuringly. “If you think Shireen needs a dermatologist, we’ll look for one. I certainly don’t want her to be treated by some quack who is not even a proper doctor”

Shireen’s heart leaps. The prospect of going to a dermatologist is actually such a _relief_. She doesn’t have an opinion on homoeopathy, but so far she has seen zero results, and her dad’s reaction to it is now making her suspicious too. She has occasionally mentioned it to her mother that it doesn’t seem very effective and maybe they should try something different, but all she has told her is that she needs to be patient and wait a little bit longer. Shireen desperately wants to believe that there has to be a solution to her problem, there must be _something_ that can be done, and a dermatologist sounds exactly like the right person to tell her what this something is. She goes to bed that night feeling hopeful, and grateful to Sansa for understanding her problem without Shireen even having to tell her anything.

//

“Can you turn your head this way, please? Good. And now the other way? Do you mind pulling your hair back a little?”

Shireen does as she is told despite the extreme vulnerability she feels being examined from up close with a special magnifying glass, under a special and very not-flattering light. In the end doctor Pylos returns to his desk and allows Shireen to return to the little couch where her father and Sansa are sitting. It is Friday afternoon, almost a week since Shireen’s dad promised to find a dermatologist. In the end they went for the one the ancient family doctor, Dr. Cressen, recommended to them.

“It certainly looks like cystic acne” doctor Pylos says, and Shireen can hear Sansa exhale audibly. Dr. Pylos proceeds to explain exactly how cystic acne is caused and how it works, and turns his computer screen to their direction to show them diagrams and actual photos of people with cystic acne of varying severity. Shireen is not sure if she gets everything, but she understands that the issue is mainly hormonal and that if it remains untreated it can leave permanent scars, just like Sansa said. Shireen’s dad asks about the treatment. He’s been bombarding doctor Pylos with questions while sporting his most intimidating look, but oddly enough, Dr. Pylos seems genuinely excited with all the questions and is eager to answer all of them. He is young, somewhere in his early thirties, and though he seems awkwardly timid when he needs to engage in small-talk, he is very confident and professional when he talks about dermatology.

He tells them that the treatment for cystic acne takes some time, but is very effective when the patients follow their doctor’s instructions properly. He admits that the medication can be a little heavy on the organism and can have some side effects, which is why the patients must take blood tests every month to check their health status. This causes Shireen’s dad to bombard the doctor with even more questions in his crisp, no-nonsense tone. Pylos patiently explains everything in detail, until Stannis looks somewhat satisfied. Shireen is actually in awe of the dermatologist – she doesn’t know many people other than Sansa who are so unaffected by her father’s abrupt and suspicious tone.

“Shireen, do you want to take the treatment?” her father asks seriously, but not without a tone of affection in his voice. They’ve just left the doctor’s office and they’re in the car, but her father sat silent for a few moments, not even putting the keys in the ignition.

Shireen thinks about it. If she has the treatment, her liver and other organs might be affected by the medication. Her condition will seem to worsen a lot before it starts getting better, as the pimples push on the higher layers of the skin. She has to start wearing sun lotion all the time, even during the winter months. She has to take a blood test every month without fail. But none of these things seems to be particularly scary. If there is one thing she’s really good at, that’s following doctors’ orders. Ever since she was a small child, she would always ask doctors – her pediatrician, her dentist, her orthodontist- what they were about to do to her. She had to know, and if it was possible, she wanted to watch too. Her mother always told her how she was really cooperative even as a baby when it came to vaccines, and the only time she cried was when they did the shot on her butt, and she couldn’t see the needle. It’s not knowing that has always scared her the most. Nothing about the treatment of cystic acne is scary compared to the number of bizarre and painful treatments she’s been following in order to fix her entirely-too-narrow upper jaw and skewed lower jaw. On the contrary, it’s somewhat reassuring to know that the treatment doctor Pylos is suggesting is not going to be magically easy. Shireen would have been suspicious of that. In terms of health, she’s learned that fixing things comes with a little bit of pain.

“I want to do it” she says quietly, but with certainty.

“It seems that you should” her father sighs, and finally starts the car. Sansa turns back and winks at her, and Shireen feels that odd sense of hope again.

//

It all kind of goes to hell on Sunday evening.

Normally her father drives her to her mother’s house, watches as she walks to the door and never drives off before he makes sure she’s inside the house. But tonight he turns off the car engine and unbuckles his seatbelt with a look on his face that Shireen can only compare to that of a gladiator ready to face a lion in the arena. 

“I need to talk to your mother about your acne treatment” he explains to Shireen stiffly.

She wants to tell him that he shouldn’t come with her now, that he should just call her mother on the phone, possibly even send an e-mail or send a representative, but she’s never dared to judge her dad’s decisions. _Except for Sansa_ , a little voice in her head says.

“Mum? Dad is here” she says when she enters the kitchen where her mother is sitting, going through some receipts. Shireen feels like a few megatons of awkwardness are crushing her as her mother looks up in surprise. Her father coughs, and when he says hello his voice sounds ridiculously prim. Shireen can’t stand being in the kitchen anymore and leaves without even making up an excuse, but she doesn’t go too far. She stays in the hallway, where she can listen to everything that’s going on.

She listens with bated breath as her father informs her mother about the visit to the dermatologist and explains in detail his diagnosis and suggested treatment for Shireen’s condition. Her mother doesn’t interrupt him, and remains silent for a couple of minutes after her father stops talking, enough to make Shireen think that she’s going to agree with everything.

“How _dare_ you?” she then says icily. Shireen’s heart sinks immediately.

“Excuse me?” Shireen’s dad says. His voice is still calm, but Shireen knows his face is already going to resemble a storm.

“You took our daughter to a doctor without telling me?”

“I took our daughter to a certified doctor to examine her, not to harvest her organs and sell them in the black market” Stannis says testily. “Besides, you are the one who took our daughter to a charlatan who’s feeding her grass without telling _me_ ”

“Homoeopathy is harmless!” Shireen’s mother retorts.

“And completely ineffectual” her father adds curtly.

“The treatment your doctor is suggesting is pure poison! Shireen is too young to take such heavy medication!”

“She is also too young to have permanent scars on her face caused by extensive infection because we kept giving her magical flower pills instead of actual medicine”

“You should have told me before you took her to see a doctor!”

“I’m telling you now!”

It goes on like this for some time, and Shireen’s heart sinks deeper as her parents’ voices are raised higher. Then her father accidentally mentions Sansa, and Shireen knows this is a big mistake even before her mother goes ballistic. Shireen can take only a few moments of listening to her mother accusing Sansa of putting ideas in her dad’s head and having him wrapped around her little finger. She runs to her room, shuts her door and puts on her headphones, but she can hear the fight even over the loud, screechy music of Muse and the slightly whiny voice of Matt Bellamy. She buries her face in her pillow, wishing she was anywhere else in the world, wishing her parents had never married, wishing they lived in different continents or even different planets so that they would never have to speak to each other. She doesn’t feel like this very often, but right now she feels that being the child of divorced parents really sucks.

//

“So do you think you will remember taking your pill every day? It’s very important” Pylos says seriously, looking her in the eyes. In his hands he’s holding the results of her first blood test, the one that will act as a measure for the ones she’ll take during the many months of the treatment.

“Shireen is very good at following doctors’ orders” her father says with certainty, making Shireen feel unexpectedly and stupidly proud of herself. She nods in affirmation, fighting the urge to smile.

It’s three weeks after the epic fight between her parents. For the first two weeks her mother was adamant that Shireen will not have the treatment, despite the endless conversations with her ex-husband (Shireen’s dad had now wisely resorted to phone calls instead of personal visits) and Shireen’s silent protest, which involved her not wearing any makeup to remind her mother just how bad her acne was. It took a combination of things for Shireen’s mother to cave in, eventually: the fact that Shireen’s condition didn’t seem to improve whatsoever with homoeopathy, her father’s guarantee that they would stop the treatment the moment there was the slightest indication that it had a negative effect on Shireen’s health, and a personal phone call between Selyse and doctor Pylos all played their part. 

And though Shireen was not surprised by the look of relief on her father’s face when she told him her mother had finally given her consent, she was surprised by the mix of relief and enthusiasm on Sansa’s face. But then again, she had spent two weekends in a row, and probably many working days too, begging Shireen’s dad not to give up, to keep trying to change Selyse’s mind – _for Shireen’s sake, Stannis_ \- when she thought Shireen wasn’t listening. Shireen doesn’t know what to make of that – of Sansa’s persistent interest in her health and well-being. She wonders if this is just how she is, if she cares so intensely about everyone she knows, or if there’s some special reason she cares so much about Shireen – and she just doesn’t know.

“Oh, you got it!” Sansa says excitedly when Shireen and her dad return home. She jumps off the couch and snatches the box of medicine from Stannis’s hands, and starts reading the instructions and list of side effects even though they’ve already researched everything online. She looks like a greedy child clutching the box like that, Shireen thinks.

“Do you want some tea? I bought a new one with actual rose petals mixed with the tea leaves” Sansa says, her eyes flying over the miniscule letters of the instructions.

“Yeah, sure” Shireen says from the foyer, where she’s taking her sneakers off. “Actually” she says on second thought, as Sansa heads to the kitchen, “let me make you some”.


	9. age thirteen (part two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa has the best ideas / Shireen has to make a Choice

“Oh, hey there!” Sansa says cheerfully when she walks in the apartment with a stack of colourful dossiers in her arms.

“Oh, hi” Shireen says, stops the video she’s been watching on her laptop (a ram bonking a punching bag) and takes her headphones off to be polite. Her father has agreed she’s old enough now to come home straight from school on Fridays if she feels like it.

“Your dad is going to be a little late today, he said he has a meeting” Sansa says as she places the stack of dossiers on the coffee table with a loud thump.

“Yeah, he sent me a message” Shireen says. Sansa has now taken a slightly crumpled stack of paper out of her ginormous teacher’s bag and has precariously perched them on top of the stack of dossiers with another loud thump. 

“So how was work?” Shireen asks a little awkwardly. She has been out alone with Sansa before, for shopping usually, but she has never been entirely alone with her in the apartment before, and she suddenly feels really awkward and self-conscious about it, even though there is absolutely no logical reason to feel like that. Because she’s a massive weirdo, just like Myrcella says.

“Oh, don’t get me started. The kids where absolute monsters today; I don’t know what had gotten into them, maybe the anticipation for the weekend, but honestly they’re real brats sometimes. I think I like them better when they’re young and innocent” Sansa says exasperated as she slumps on the couch and kicks off her ballet flats. Even that she does with grace, Shireen notes. 

“Aren’t they young and innocent at age eleven?” Shireen asks, mildly amused. She’s only thirteen, but that time feels like centuries ago.

“Would you describe your eleven-year-old self as innocent?” Sansa asks sweetly.

“Okay, good point” Shireen mumbles and she can actually feel her face redden to the roots of her hair. “So, um, I think I’ll go to my room” she says then and starts picking up her stuff.

“Oh no, don’t go! We can do something together, if you’d like” Sansa says hurriedly.

“Er, don’t you have to grade papers or something?” Shireen asks uncertainly. She’s a bit surprised that Sansa wants to spend time with her even though she’s not required to.

“Eh, I’ll keep putting it off during the whole weekend and frantically start doing my work on Sunday evening like every teacher ever” Sansa says airily. “I swear I am a responsible adult” she adds and winks at Shireen.

“Alright then” Shireen says with a laugh “do you have anything in mind?”

Sansa scrunches up her face, feigning deep thought. Shireen resists the urge to roll her eyes. People shouldn’t be allowed to look so adorable when they’re pulling faces. It’s ridiculous.

“Oh wait. I know _exactly_ what we’re going to do”

//

_“Miss Elizabeth. I have struggled in vain and I can bear it no longer. These past months have been a torment. I came to Rosings with the single object of seeing you... I had to see you.”_

Shireen is curled up on the couch, hugging one of the throw pillows, her eyes glued on the screen and her mouth slightly open. She has forgotten that her tea is growing cold and the delicious cookies on the coffee table remain uneaten. She has not really watched any period dramas, deeming them a little too girly for her taste, and she did raise an eyebrow when Sansa popped the DVD in the DVD player, but honestly, there are no words to describe how invested she is in all the characters and how enchanted she is by their complex personalities and feelings. This story doesn’t even need dragons to make it more interesting.

_“I have fought against my better judgment, my family's expectations, the inferiority of your birth by rank and circumstance.”_

“Oh, it’s Pride and Prejudice” Shireen’s dad says, making both his daughter and girlfriend jump in surprise. They never heard him coming in.

“Where do you even _know_ that?” Shireen asks. She is so surprised that her father could know such a thing that she forgets to say hi.

“Well, it _is_ one of the most famous works in the English language” her father sniffs, as if offended at his daughter’s question. “And I did have to read it for a school project, back in the day. I must say, Miss Austen did surprise me pleasantly”

“She did?” Shireen asks dumbly. Sansa has thankfully pressed the pause button and she can safely take her eyes off the screen. “You… liked it?” She doesn’t think she has ever seen her father reading anything other than history or economics books, and somehow she finds it hard to believe that women in silk dresses and intricate hairstyles who dream of getting married to a gentleman of leisure would be the sort of literature to attract him.

“Of course I did. Austen provides excellent commentary on the position of both men and women in her time, and she presents very eloquently the importance of not betraying your ideals in your search for a suitable partner” her father says seriously. His cheeks redden a little, because he must have realized, like the dumbstruck Shireen has, that this is the first time he’s inadvertently talked to his daughter about relationships. “At any rate, I would much prefer it if you decided to read something of Jane Austen instead of that monstrosity about that sparkling vampire that Myrcella has been yapping about lately”

“You know about that too?”

“Yes, it’s a terrible excuse of a novel-”

“That’s all well and fine, but Mr. Darcy is in the middle of confessing his love to Lizzy and we interrupted him” Sansa cuts in impatiently and presses play again. 

Shireen’s dad mutters noncommittally that he will go to his study, but he keeps standing next to the couch Shireen and Sansa are sharing, as Lizzy rejects Mr. Darcy. By the time Darcy has given his letter to Lizzy, he’s been half sitting on the arm of the couch, and when eventually Lizzy visits Pemberly with her aunt and uncle, he has given in completely, having slid on the couch next to Sansa, his tie loosened and the top button of his shirt undone. 

_My dad is a closet romantic_ , Shireen realizes, and the thought is more shocking than Sansa declaring she hates lemon cakes.

//

_“What?”_ Shireen asks, her mouth still full with cornflakes. Her spoon escapes the loose grip of her hand and clutters on the kitchen floor. 

“We need to move to Brightwater for some time” her mother repeats patiently. “Your grandmother has not been well for some time now, as you know, and it seems like she’s getting worse. I need to be close to her”

“For how long?” Shireen asks, after she has finally managed to swallow her cornflakes. Suddenly she’s not hungry for her evening snack anymore.

“A few months probably” her mother says. Her bony fingers are smoothing the pristine white tablecloth.

“We can’t be away from King’s Landing for that long! I have school! And – and you have work!” Shireen says, a little louder than she meant to.

“You can transfer to a school in Brightwater. And I can take a sabbatical from work” her mother says calmly, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“But… it’s almost the middle of the year” Shireen says feebly.

“Look, Shireen. I need to be close to my mother-”

“Why can’t we bring her here then?” Shireen suggests. “Wouldn’t that be simpler?”

“No. Your grandmother wants to be home with her family. As I said, I need to be with my mother. My mother is in Brightwater. Ergo we have to go to Brightwater. It’s simple”

_It isn’t,_ Shireen thinks sullenly. How can her mother ask her to leave everything she has here to go live in the most boring part of the Reach? Her whole life she has lived in King’s Landing. How can she ask her to leave her school and go to a new one where she doesn’t know anyone? How can she ask her to leave her friends behind? Devan and Myrcella, her classmates, uncle Renly and uncle Loras? How can she ask her to be away from her father… and Sansa? _Because she loves her mother, and wants to be by her side,_ the annoying voice of reason says, the one that remains unaffected by Shireen’s selfishness. 

_But her mother doesn’t love me,_ Shireen thinks bitterly. _So why should I uproot myself for a woman who has always ignored me?_

“I will have to make preparations for the trip as soon as possible” her mother says, oblivious to her daughter’s thoughts. “And you will have to start preparing too. Take clothes and your school things and-”

_I don’t want to come with you_ , she thinks, and the thought is clear and firm.

“I can’t come with you” she says instead.

“Well you can’t exactly stay here either” her mother says testily.

“I _can_ ” Shireen says, and wonders why she hadn’t thought of it before. “I can stay with dad” she explains triumphantly. Her mother’s face twitches at the mention of her ex-husband, but it becomes expressionless a moment later.

“And do you think your father will agree to let you stay with him for such a long time, now that Sansa lives with him?”

There’s something in her mother’s tone that angers Shireen and strengthens her resolve to not follow her to stupid Brightwater.

“Dad will say yes” she says firmly, and she does believe it.

“You can ask him then” her mother says, and though her voice is flat, her face muscles are tense.

//

It is a lot harder than Shireen had initially thought. Her mother had told her about her plans on Tuesday evening, and Shireen couldn’t wait for the weekend to come to talk to her father. But once she gets her chance, she hesitates.

She spends the greatest part of the weekend trying to figure out what exactly to tell her father and trying to find the best time to talk to him. She is so distracted and lost in her thoughts that Sansa feels compelled to ask her if she’s alright.

“My grandma is sick” Shireen says automatically, because it’s the first thing that comes to her mind.

“Oh, Shireen! I’m so sorry!” Sansa exclaims. She puts aside the assignments she’s been grading and gives Shireen an uncertain look, probably trying to decide whether it’s a good idea to hug her or not. 

“Oh, it’s fine” Shireen says, because the sad truth is she isn’t really that concerned about her grandma.

“No, no, it’s ok to worry about her. You must be close, right? Since she’s your only grandmother…”

“Not really” she says honestly, and her voice joins that of her father who happens to pass from the living room at that moment. Sansa looks at both of them questioningly.

“Melessa kept nagging me and Selyse incessantly and quite dramatically that we needed to have a child as soon as possible, before she closed her eyes or something along those lines” Shireen’s dad says stiffly.

“But then she decided that she wasn’t all that interested in me” Shireen says calmly. Sansa looks at her in disbelief. Shireen has often heard her speak fondly of her late grandfather Hoster in Riverrun. Like most people, she can’t quite comprehend the idea of grandparents who are not very fond of their grandchildren.

“She’s always been a strange woman” Shireen’s dad adds, as if that explains everything.

“Yeah, she likes to sit in her room with the curtains drawn so no light comes in, and she watches TV on mute, with the subtitles on” Shireen supplies, to give Sansa an idea of what “strange” means.

“Oh” is all that Sansa manages.

“She still does that?” Shireen’s father says in surprise. Shireen nods. “Huh” he says and heads back to his study. 

Shireen hesitates for a few moments, but then she forces herself to follow him. She can’t keep postponing this conversation forever. It’s now or never.

“Dad?”

He looks up from his laptop. His eyes are unusually gentle, waiting patiently for her to go on. She closes the door behind her, gaining time to collect her thoughts.

“About grandma…” she starts and stops immediately. For some reason it now feels almost impossible to tell her father what she’s thinking. All her confidence has evaporated, and she is filled with doubt. What if she’s wrong? What if he says no? What if he doesn’t want her to stay here for so long?

“Mum wants to go to Brightwater to be with her, and she wants me to go with her as well” she says, practically pushing the words out of her mouth.

“Is it going to be for a long time?” her father asks. A crease has appeared between his eyebrows.

“A few months. The thing is… the thing is I don’t want to go with her” Shireen says with tremendous effort. The crease between her dad’s eyebrows deepens. She takes a deep breath.

“Can I… can I stay here instead?” she finally asks.

Her father’s eyes widen. For one horrible moment, Shireen is absolutely certain her father is going to say no, and she thinks of how _humiliating_ it will be to tell her mother she was right about him all along.

“Yes, of course” he croaks, and then, with a clearer and steadier voice: “Of course you can stay here. It’s your home too. No reason to change schools in the middle of the year. I have to tell Sansa, you understand, but yes, of course”

He sits still for a few moments, looking at nothing in particular, and then he stands up, gives her a squeeze in the arm and leaves her alone in the study, presumably to go find Sansa.

Shireen slumps on his chair, suddenly feeling dizzy. She is relieved, but also scared. She gets to stay in King’s Landing, but things will change anyway. What is going to happen now?

Sansa bursts in the study before Shireen has a chance to think of an answer to her own question.

“I just wanted to say –it’s not even like there’s any need for my permission or anything – but I just wanted to say it anyway – _of course_ you can stay with us” she says, her words quick and steady despite her obvious nervousness.

“Thank you” Shireen says, as another, unexpected wave of relief washes over her.

“Hey. It’s going to be fine” Sansa says warmly – and there is the answer Shireen had been looking for.


	10. age thirteen (part three)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stannis, Sansa and Shireen experience domestic bliss / Shireen does some eavesdropping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's size got a little out of hand, but I didn't want to cut anything out or push it to the next chapter, so here you go. Quantity doesn't guarantee quality, but I hope you like it anyway. :)

Until her last day in King’s Landing, Shireen’s mother reminds her that she can change her mind whenever she wants to and follow her to Brightwater. Shireen feels bad that she has to say no so many times, because each time she remembers the hurt look her mother gave her when she told her that her father had let her stay with him. But there is no way she will change her mind.

There are others who are more excited about the prospect of her staying with her father and Sansa. Renly teases her that she lost her opportunity to be a big fish in a small pond, but then tells her seriously that she did the smart thing to stay where she is. Myrcella is over the moon, saying that now Shireen will get bored of seeing her dad all the time, and they can have a lot more sleepovers than before, which Shireen is actually looking forward to. Devan simply tells her it would suck if she had left, and to Shireen that means a lot. Davos and Marya also seem to be very pleased with the turn of events.

But nobody could be more pleased than the actual people involved. It’s really strange, but everything works out perfectly, as if they have been doing this for years and not just for the weekends. They find their routine very quickly; They all wake up roughly the same time on weekdays, blearily bumping on each other on their way to the bathroom. Shireen’s dad is the first one to head off, giving a quick kiss to Sansa and, lately, hastily stroking his daughter’s cheek. Sansa often drives Shireen to school, since it’s on her way to work. Shireen is usually the first one to return home, followed by Sansa. In the first couple of weeks she stays in her room to study, but as time passes, she finds that it is a lot more fun doing her homework on the dining table, opposite to Sansa who is preparing for next day’s lessons, often gossiping about their most and least favourite teachers. By the time her father returns home, they are already in the middle of preparing dinner. They always eat together, talking about their day, and if her dad doesn’t have work to do, they often sit together and watch movies. They even have a system, where they take turns in choosing what to watch. Shireen usually picks her favourite fantasy or sci-fi movies, Sansa picks a lot of period dramas to which Shireen is becoming seriously addicted, and her dad invariably chooses documentaries, which make Shireen happy because she was practically raised watching stuff about the unique flora and fauna of Dorne and whatnot, and give Sansa ideas for her lessons. On weekends, if she’s not sleeping over at Myrcella’s or Devan’s, Shireen often wakes up to the sounds of opera, which Sansa loves listening to while she does housework. The weekend breakfast is a small ritual, as it’s the only time in the week when they can enjoy their tea and now customary pancakes together. It’s a routine that Shireen quickly grows to love, and her father and Sansa seem to be enjoying too. 

What she loves the most, is that the novelty is not wearing off after two weeks or a month. The glue holding them all together seems to have dried almost completely, making their ties even stronger. There are no fights, no tense moments or weird misunderstandings, nothing to disturb what Renly likes to call their “domestic bliss”. Things just go on, calm, normal, happy, so much that Shireen prefers to forget there is an expiration date to this arrangement.

//

“Bran asked me if I want to hang out with him and some friends for his birthday” Shireen says to Sansa, raising her voice to be heard over the running water. Sansa is washing the dishes and Shireen is drying them with a towel, because Sansa is of the opinion that dishwashers are a waste of time.

“Really? That’s great” Sansa says, putting another plate on the stack to be dried. Shireen supposes it’s nice, although she is a little surprised by Bran’s invitation. They’ve been chatting a bit and occasionally sending each other funny memes since last Christmas, but she still didn’t expect him to want her to be at his birthday celebration.

“Yeah, but I thought it may not be convenient… You and dad might want to do something for your anniversary instead of driving me to Winterfell” Shireen says worriedly. She knows this is a special day for both of them and doesn’t want to get in the way of any plans they might have made.

“And who says we can’t celebrate our anniversary in Winterfell?” Sansa says with a laugh and a yelp, because a mug has almost slipped from her soapy fingers. “Don’t worry about it. We could kill two birds with one stone that way” she adds and smiles conspiratorially at Shireen.

And so it is, that in the afternoon of the winter solstice, when her treatment has pushed her acne at its worst, most aggressive point, Shireen is dropped off by her father and Sansa at the entrance of the biggest mall in Winterfell, where Bran and his friends are waiting. Her father and Sansa wave at her when they make sure she’s not alone, and they set off for their own date.

“Um, happy birthday” Shireen says to Bran, and gives him his present. Another book, this time picked with confidence.

“Hey, thanks a lot” Bran says. His smile is warm and relaxed. He has changed since the last time Shireen saw him. His face looks a little thinner, also displaying the first signs of acne, and he now wears his auburn hair a little longer. He’s dressed in jeans and a black sweater, and he carries a cane, the nickel-plated handle carved in the shape of a wolf’s head.

“Theon gave it to me” he explains when he catches her curious stare. “I sort of need something to lean on on my worst days. Isn’t it awesome? Mum really hates it” he beams.

He introduces her to his friends, a slight boy with a gentle expression, and a tall, athletic girl with dark hair and sharp eyes. Jojen and Meera, brother and sister and his new best friends apparently. They’re not the sort of kids Shireen remembers from Bran’s twelfth birthday party, but then again Bran doesn’t seem to be quite the same boy either.

They go play some games at the arcade, waiting until it’s time to go watch the latest superhero movie, and after that they sit somewhere to eat and talk about the movie. Shireen is having a lot more fun than she had expected. She is always nervous when she’s about to meet new people, but Jojen and Meera are super cool and fun, making her feel like she really belongs in their obviously close-knit group. They’re into the same books and films that she and Bran are into, and they have this really subtle sense of humour that Shireen really appreciates in people.

“Here’s your birthday cake” Meera tells Bran and sticks a single birthday candle in the bun of his second burger “since you didn’t bother getting a proper one”

“Meera” Bran says seriously “how did you know pink is my colour?”

Shireen laughs, because the candle is indeed neon pink.

“Oh, it’s what was left from Jojen’s birthday candles” Meera explains, and they all laugh, even quiet Jojen.

“So, did you have a good time?” Sansa asks when they’re driving back to King’s Landing a few hours later.

“I… had a great time” Shireen says and smiles widely. It really had been such a great fun hanging out with Bran, Jojen and Meera, and she feels a little sad they don’t live closer to each other. It now seems that Bran knew exactly what he was doing when he invited her – they had all clicked so well together.

“What about you, though? Did you have a good time?” she asks her dad and Sansa.

They look at each other, and even in the dark car Shireen can see how their eyes sparkle and their cheeks flush.

“We had a good time too” her father eventually says calmly, but Shireen can see his smile and it makes her smile even wider.

//

“Dammit, Lara” Bran sighs, as Lara Croft falls off a cliff and impales herself on a tree branch, letting out a rather silly cry. “I think she’s suicidal” he adds apologetically.

“I think you just suck at playing a little” Shireen corrects him, and Bran laughs. Their growing friendship seems to be heavily based on teasing, and neither of them is quite sure why. Shireen doesn’t understand why it feels so easy and natural to tease him when she would never dare to do the same to Devan. He is much too honest, too well-meaning for that sort of banter. But Bran seems to relish it.

“Right, I’ll pop to the bathroom until the game loads” Shireen says and she gets up. This routine is already becoming familiar. Sansa sometimes takes Shireen with her to Winterfell in the weekends, when her dad is too busy with work or is at a conference. Sansa gets to see her parents, and Shireen gets to spend time with Bran, playing videogames or watching movies. Catelyn and Ned seem to be happy with the arrangement too. Something that Shireen has not realized fully, because she was not close to Bran before, is how much he has changed since the accident. He spends a lot more time inside the house, reading books and playing games, because his physical condition doesn’t allow him to be as athletic as before. And he is a lot more selective when it comes to his friends. It’s something that will take Shireen a long time to put together, his bitterness at his friends’ indifference to his near-fatal accident, and how deliberately he removed himself from the circle of popular kids he was part of, favouring the company of Jojen and Meera instead. It’s something that worries Catelyn, and Bran’s willingness to spend time with Shireen seems to put her mind at ease a little.

“Hey, can you ask mum if there’s any coke left on your way back?” Bran asks, skimming through a comic book while he waits for the game to load.

“Sure”

She goes downstairs quickly after going to the bathroom, eager to return to the game.

“I can’t tell you how excited I was when Robb and Jeyne told us they were expecting. I honestly can’t wait to finally have a grandchild” Catelyn’s voice comes from the kitchen, where she’s probably sitting on the kitchen island with Sansa, with warm mugs of cocoa in their hands. Shireen doesn’t understand why they insist on sitting in the kitchen instead of the much comfier living room.

“Well, you sort of already have one” Sansa says gently, hesitantly. Her words make Shireen stop in her tracks, right outside the kitchen. 

“What do you mean?” Catelyn asks, and Shireen can detect the hint of bafflement and discomfort in her voice.

“Well, there’s Shireen…” Sansa says, a little uncertainly, as if surprised her mother had not figured that out by herself. Shireen holds her breath.

“Oh, Sansa… You can’t really mean that?” Catelyn says, and her voice sounds a little condescending to Shireen.

“Of course I mean it. I’ve been with Stannis for two years now. I love her. And now that we all live together… she’s like a daughter to me”

Something wakes within Shireen, squirming and wiggling into existence. Something she had not considered before – that she could be someone else’s daughter, someone other than her mother and father.

“But she was so awful to you” Catelyn says, as if she’s trying to make Sansa see reason, and a terrible feeling of shame floods Shireen. She knows she used to be really mean to Sansa, but hearing someone else say it stings worse than she had expected.

“She was only a child then, and it was a difficult time for her. Things are much different now - have been for over a year. She… she is lovely” Sansa says, and there’s passion in her voice. The absolution she grants Shireen doesn’t make the girl feel any better; it only makes the shame greater.

“I’m glad you have a better relationship now, but still… calling her a daughter… expecting us to think of her as our grandchild…” Catelyn’s voice trails off.

“We live together now. I take her to her doctor’s appointments. We cook together. The other day she watched Moulin Rouge with me even though she hates it, just because she wanted me to cheer up. We’re going to be a part of each other’s lives for a long time. What else should I call her?” Sansa’s voice is steady, certain.

“You mean Stannis has…?”

“Not yet” Sansa replies calmly, but her tone implies this will be remedied soon. There is a pregnant silence, and then, a realization on Sansa’s part: “You didn’t think it was so serious. You thought it would be over after a few months or a year. You never thought he might be the right one”

“I thought he was good for you at the time – I thought it would be good for you to see what it’s like to be with someone mature and responsible, someone who wouldn’t hurt you. Someone to make you look for the right things in life” Catelyn admits. Shireen feels anger stir within her. How can Catelyn say her father is not right for Sansa? Has she not seen how happy she is? How happy they all are together?

“But Sansa,” Catelyn continues, her concern plain in her voice now “you are so young. Surely you can find someone closer to your age… someone without a past, with whom you can create your own family” 

“I _have_ created my own family” Sansa says stubbornly. There’s irritation in her voice, and Shireen thinks she sounds a little hurt too.

“It’s not quite the same” Catelyn says gently, tiredly.

“Is that why you never treated Jon quite the same way as the rest of us?” Sansa says accusingly.

“Sansa!” Now it’s Catelyn who sounds hurt, and Shireen suddenly doesn’t want to listen anymore. These are family matters she shouldn’t be privy to.

She climbs the stairs as quickly and quietly as she can, and enters Bran’s room as nonchalantly as possible.

“What took you so long?” he asks without raising his eyes from his comic book.

“I was trying to escape from the bathroom window, so that I wouldn’t have to endure your terrible company anymore, obviously” Shireen deadpans.

_“Obviously”_ Bran agrees. “I was only asking out of politeness, to be honest. It’s actually a bummer that you decided to return”

“Well, sucks to be you” Shireen says with a smile as she sits next to him. “Hey, can you have Lara wear something warmer? It’s making me feel cold watching her run around with a tank top in the snow”

“Uh, I think there’s an outfit with a jacket and long trousers” Bran says and starts searching through the menu obligingly. “No coke?”

“Huh?”

“There wasn’t any coke left?”

“Oh. No”

//

She manages to push the conversation she has overheard out of her mind for the remainder of the time she spends with Bran. But when she’s in the car with Sansa on the way home, she can’t ignore it any longer.

_I love her._

__It was so strange to hear Sansa say those words. She knows her father loves her, and she knows her mother loves her, without them ever having to say it explicitly. In a sense, she knew about Sansa too, but to hear her say the words with such conviction was like someone opening her eyes to see a new world. And more than Catelyn’s words, those three words were what made Shireen feel so much shame and regret now for the first year Sansa came into their lives. She had been so awful to her – so mean and unwelcoming and rude. And despite it all, Sansa had been patient, and kind. Despite it all, Sansa loves her now._ _

__“Are you ok?” Sansa interrupts her thoughts, eyeing her through the rear-view mirror._ _

__“Yeah. Just a little tired” Shireen says and smiles faintly. “Are _you_ ok?” she’s not supposed to know anything about what passed between Sansa and Catelyn, but she wants to make sure Sansa is alright._ _

__“Yeah. I’m also tired” she admits. To Shireen she looks out of spirits, not tired, but she can’t say anything._ _

_She’s like a daughter to me._

This is the other set of words that won’t let Shireen be. Love, she had almost expected. But Sansa regarding her as a daughter is an entirely new concept. But why not? Wasn’t Sansa’s reasoning correct? They live together. Sansa takes care of her. Sansa is her father’s girlfriend. Sansa loves her. They all think of each other in terms of a family – there’s no tiptoeing around the word now. What else could Shireen be, if not a daughter to her? 

_And does that mean she is a mother to me?_ Shireen wonders. She steals a glance at Sansa, who’s keeping her eyes on the road, trying to figure out how she feels about her. She already has a mother, and though that doesn’t seem restrictive to her, she can’t quite see Sansa as a mother yet, despite how motherly she can be. She feels like a best friend to her, or even the sister she never had, but not quite a mother. But even so, she thinks, remembering something else Catelyn said, Sansa _is_ her family, and she can’t imagine her not being a part of her life. She might not love her like a mother, but she loves her nonetheless. 

__These thoughts won’t let her be for the rest of the evening. By the time she goes to bed, she has decided that she couldn’t care less about Catelyn and Ned seeing her as a sort of grandchild. But Sansa regarding her as her daughter – she wants that. She can’t tell her that, just like she can’t tell her how bad she feels about her behaviour in the beginning, so she decides to do the next best thing. On Sunday morning she wakes up early and makes pancakes for her dad and Sansa, just like Sansa has taught her._ _


	11. age thirteen (part four)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stannis has a question for Sansa / Shireen returns home

Her father comes in her room one Thursday evening, when Sansa is out for a drink with Margaery. Shireen is sprawled on her bed reading the first chapter of Sense and Sensibility, but sits up when her father knocks on the door.

“Everything alright?” she asks curiously, after he stands in the middle of the room for several moments without speaking.

“Listen, would you like to spend the weekend with Myrcella?” he says and comes to sit on the edge of her bed.

“Can’t do, Myrcella is going to visit Joffrey at Lannisport with aunt Cersei” Shireen reminds him.

“Really? How about Devan then? Would you like to spend the weekend with him?” her father asks with a look of panic crossing over his face.

“Wow, you really want me to scram, don’t you?” Shireen teases him.

“What? _No-_ ”

“Dad, it’s a joke. Sure I’d like to sleep over at Devan’s. But we should ask Davos and Marya first, right?” Shireen says with a smile. It amuses her that suddenly she’s the one who has to think of that stuff.

“Davos and Marya won’t have a problem” her father says quickly.

“Okay? Dad, what’s going on?” Shireen asks, her smile growing wider. It’s very strange and funny seeing her father acting so weird. Her question makes him stand very still, and his dark blue eyes meet hers, identical to his.

“Shireen, I’m going to ask Sansa to marry me” he says seriously.

“Really?” she says after a few moments, and she exhales. She hadn’t realized she had been holding her breath.

“Yes” her father says simply.

She can’t say this is a big surprise. The thought has been lazily swimming around in her head ever since she overheard the conversation between Sansa and Catelyn, making her wonder when they’re all going to be a family officially. 

“This is great, I love Sansa” she says. Her smile is not as wide now, but it’s gentler.

“You do” her father says quietly. It’s not really a question, it’s a realization tinted with relief. It’s only then that Shireen herself realizes that she’s never said it out loud before – that she does love Sansa.

“And you think it’s great that I’m going to propose” her father says with a small smile. Again, it’s not really a question, but Shireen answers to this one anyway.

“Yeah” she says, and it’s true. It’s oddly comforting and reassuring to know that Sansa will be around for, well, _forever_. It’s also, surprisingly, somewhat of a relief to know that soon she will be able to refer to her as her father’s wife, not girlfriend. She doesn’t mind it so much herself, but she’s not completely oblivious to the assumptions that people can make when they hear the word “girlfriend” attached to someone so much younger than her father.

“I’m glad” her father says, always frugal with his words, but his face is for once expressive. “Do you – do you want to see the ring?”

For a moment, Shireen is tempted. She doesn’t care much about jewelry, but she does love the idea of seeing something that is supposed to be a secret, for now at least.

“No” she says eventually and shakes her head. “Sansa should see it first”

She decides it’s more than enough of a thrill to know something Sansa doesn’t know yet, and she thinks she does a really good job at acting normal. Much better than her father at least, who is obviously distracted the closer they get to the weekend. Devan is of course completely oblivious to everything when they meet on Saturday morning, but Davos and Marya’s smiles let Shireen know they are aware of what’s going on. They don’t talk about it though, and Shireen decides not to mention it either.

But that same night, she finds that she is unable to sleep, tossing and turning on the air mattress next to Devan’s bed. This air mattress had once been the subject of a great dispute between the kids and Marya. When Shireen started sleeping over, Marya insisted that she should sleep in Allard’s old room, in a proper bed. But both Shireen and Devan had protested that it was boring, not fair, and all sorts of other bad things, until Marya had relented and allowed Shireen to sleep in Devan’s room, on the condition that Devan would sleep on the mattress like a good host and give his bed to Shireen. They had obeyed her that first night, but for every night after that there was a constant fight between them about who would get to sleep on the mattress. Somehow it seemed more exciting and adventurous than sleeping on a bed. Eventually, they had figured out they could just take turns. And tonight it is Shireen’s turn again.

“My father is going to ask Sansa to marry him” she says. The room is dark and Devan is not moving, but she knows from his irregular breathing that he’s not asleep. “Maybe he’s asked her already” she adds. Outside it’s been raining for hours, and she wonders if that might have ruined her dad’s plans in any way.

“Are you happy about it?” Devan asks after a few moments of silence. He doesn’t seem surprised. There’s this mildness in his voice that makes him sound so much like his father.

“Yes, I am” Shireen says and winces as she turns to her side on the mattress. They went to ride their bikes at the park in the afternoon, before the rain. Devan is very much into sports; Shireen doesn’t mind some exercise, but she’s definitely not in Devan’s shape and now all her muscles are sore.

“But?” Devan says, and Shireen thinks that this is why he’s her best friend, this is why she feels so close to him even though their interests are so different the older they grow. No one else would have thought there is a “but”.

“I don’t know. It just makes me wonder” she says uncertainly. Devan’s bed creaks a little as he turns to his side too, facing her. This is how he tells her that he’s listening.

“It just makes me think… of my mother and father. It makes me wonder what would have happened… if they had never married… and if I hadn’t been born… Or if I was born later… to my father and Sansa maybe” The words come out more easily in the dark, strange and illogical as they may sound. Devan stays silent for a moment, probably processing what she just said. She supposes it’s normal. He’s never had to think about things like this, about sharing himself between families, about sharing his love between two people at odds with each other. He’s never needed to wish he belonged in just one place.

“You wonder… whether it would be easier?” Devan clarifies. Shireen nods, but then remembers that it’s pointless to nod in the dark, so she hums in affirmation.

“But maybe then you wouldn’t be who you are now. Maybe your father would not have gotten with Sansa at all if it wasn’t for you. He wouldn’t be at that party without you, right?” Devan says thoughtfully.

“Maybe not” Shireen admits. It’s a relief that he takes her bizarre concerns seriously.

“We wouldn’t be friends that way either. Everything would be different” Devan goes on. “Would you _like_ things to be different?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying” Shireen sighs.

_Then what are you saying?_ Devan’s question is silent, but it’s still audible to her. She doesn’t have an answer though. She really doesn’t know why her brain is spewing up all these weird thoughts.

“I don’t know. If you’re happy now, maybe that is enough” Devan says after a while.

Shireen hums again, because she wants it to be enough.

//

Somehow she has managed to remain calm and almost disinterested throughout the weekend, but on the elevator ride, after Davos has dropped her off, she suddenly gets extremely anxious and excited. She has no idea what has happened, if everything went well and if their lives are indeed going to be officially tied together thanks to a fancy rock.

“Hello?” she says as she enters the quiet living room. For a moment the silence persists, and then:

“Shireen? Is that you?” Sansa’s voice comes from the kitchen and then all of Sansa follows it. She’s in her sweatpants and her hair is a little messy, but Shireen can’t recall a day she looked more beautiful than now, illuminated by happiness and excitement. “Oh, Shireen!” she says, and it’s obvious she tries to say more, but she can’t because she’s either too excited or too emotional to say anything at all as she closes the distance between them quickly. Shireen finds herself in a tight hug before she knows it, but she recovers from her surprise quickly enough and wraps her arms around Sansa, trying to take deep breaths at the same time. She felt very calm when her father told her he planned to propose, but all of a sudden her heart has started fluttering wildly and that treacherous, familiar lump has started forming in her throat.

“Congratulations” she manages breathlessly when they break their embrace.

_“Thank you”_ Sansa says seriously, and Shireen is surprised to see that her eyes sparkle so much because she’s actually tearing up a little. “But you knew!” she adds then with a smile, trying to lighten up the mood a little.

“I had to wait for two whole days to see what happened, though!” Shireen reminds her and laughs, because for some reason she really needs it right now. Her eyes search for the ring, and Sansa extends her hand, beaming. A gorgeous oval sapphire is perched on her ring finger now.

“Wow, at least dad is very original” Shireen says approvingly.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Sansa says, and though she’s smiling widely, her eyes are suspiciously sparkly again.

Shireen notices that her dad has emerged from his study, looking ridiculously proud of himself. He seems just as happy as Sansa is, although a lot less teary, as he wraps one arm around her waist.

“I’m so happy for you” Shireen says earnestly, and though she wishes she could think of something less cliché to say, her father’s and Sansa’s smiling faces tell her that it’s good enough. And she thinks that Devan was right – _this_ is good enough.

//

“Ok, now pour the melted butter in the bowl with the crushed biscuits” Sansa says as she’s carefully mixing yogurt and cream cheese in another bowl. She’s still trying to get used to wearing her engagement ring, and it’s making cooking a little slower.

“What, all of it?” Shireen says in disbelief. They’ve melted a whole block of butter!

“Yes, or else the base of the cheesecake will be too crumbly and fall apart” Sansa explains.

“Dad is going to freak out big time if he figures out how much butter is in this!” Shireen says, but she laughs and pours the butter in the bowl anyway.

“What your father doesn’t know won’t hurt him” Sansa says with an innocent smile.

Shireen starts mixing the crumbled biscuits to make sure the butter goes everywhere. Cooking is a relatively new experience for her, and she suspects she’s very lucky to be learning from someone like Sansa who seems to have found a great balance between the healthy and the tasty, and who doesn’t care too much about Stannis’s open war with sugar and butter. For someone who has been raised by two parents who are terrible at cooking, it’s probably a miracle that Shireen is so interested in tastes and textures and that she’s curious enough to try new things. And Sansa’s love for food and curiosity for new recipes is a real blessing. Shireen has a lot to learn, but so far the number one lesson has been that food is tastier when you share it with people you love.

Sansa is dropping big dollops of white fatty goodness on the biscuit base and Shireen is supposed to spread it with a spatula, when her phone vibrates in her hoodie’s pocket. She wipes her hands quickly and winces when she sees her mother’s number on the screen. Lately there have been more awkward silences in their conversations than actual words.

“Hey mum”

“Shireen?” her mother’s voice is thick, and Shireen knows immediately that she’s been crying.

//

The day of the funeral is chilly but sunny. The entire Florent family is gathered around as the coffin is interred in the ground and the septon says a few words of comfort. Some people are shedding tears. Shireen feels nothing at all. It’s not the shock of the loss – she just finds it impossible to care about the death of someone who cared so little about her. Sadly, she has nothing to miss of her grandmother. There had been no lullabies, no bedtime stories, no walks to the park and sweets given with a conspiratorial smile. Her grandmother had spent most of her life worrying about possible disasters that could befall her family, almost with a gleeful persistence, letting life pass her by. And still, Shireen’s mother seems to miss her, and for her mother alone Shireen is prepared to feel a little sadness.

It’s two days after the funeral that her mother tells her of her decision. She wants to remain in Brightwater. She’s got a job offer here, less money than what she gets in King’s Landing, but still good enough. And it’s been good to be around her family the last few months, and she would like more of that. She wants to have her siblings and cousins around her. She wants the comfort of her hometown. And she wants Shireen to want those things too.

Shireen would have liked to feel more surprised by her mother’s confession, but she’s not. Under the sadness of her mother’s recent loss, she can see that she is calmer and happier than she has been in a long time. It is strange to see her mother look relaxed, to not always be looking for something to get irritated by.

She suddenly thinks of her father and Sansa, how much fun the past few months with them have been. She remembers uncle Robert’s booming laughter, Renly’s triumphant cry and Loras’s warm smile when her father and Sansa broke the news of their engagement to them. She remembers how even Catelyn found it in her to be happy for them, and how she immediately started talking about the wedding preparations. She remembers Ned’s firm handshake with her father and how Rickon turned to her and told her she was lying to him all this time ago when she told him her father would never marry his sister, and how Bran got a hiccup from laughing too hard at the irony of it all, which made her laugh in return. She thinks of the constant, buzzing excitement of the past few weeks, and how it’s going to escalate the closer they get to the wedding, and she knows she doesn’t want to miss it. In Brightwater she feels like a fish out of water, walking in pretty streets that mean nothing to her, and spending time with family that they share little more than blood.

She tells her mother, and she’s careful once again to say that she needs to stay in King’s Landing, not that she wants to stay with her father. And her mother barely protests this time, because Shireen has already said no so many times to her in the past. She tells her daughter she knows what to do – and that Brightwater will always be waiting for her if she changes her mind. Shireen doesn’t know how to feel about her reaction – relieved because there’s not going to be a fight, or bitter because her mother barely tried to convince her this time.

She calls her father that same night, and though she’s not as nervous as the first time, she is more aware of what she’s asking of him and Sansa. He is a little surprised again, obviously thinking that her mother would return to King’s Landing, but his voice is reassuring when he tells her he needs to talk with Sansa about it. Shireen understands, she really does. But it’s still a relief when he calls her the next day to tell her that her room is waiting for her.

“Did you tell your mother… er… about the…?” her father says eloquently as he starts the car, after he’s picked her up from the airhostess who was chaperoning her on her flight back to King’s Landing. Shireen understands what he’s trying to ask.

“She says congratulations” she tells her father as she fastens her seatbelt. Her mother’s exact words when she told her about the engagement were: “Well he might as well marry her now” which by her standards was probably very nice, and at any rate it was more approving than aunt Cersei’s cold indifference to the whole matter. 

“That’s nice of her” her dad says, sounding mildly surprised, and Shireen is convinced that her white lie is not so bad after all. They stay silent during the ride, and Shireen thinks that she might have missed this more than anything.

When they enter the apartment, Sansa gets up from the couch where she’s skimming through wedding magazines and comes to greet them in the foyer with her usual bright smile.

“Welcome home” she tells Shireen as she hugs her, and Shireen takes in the scent of her citrusy shampoo and really believes she’s home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently the ring Stannis gave to Sansa is the same as Princess Diana's and now Kate Middleton's. I didn't even know, it just seemed to be the classier one that I saw online. I guess I have an expensive taste, lol.


	12. age fourteen (part one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Baratheon barbecue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say a big thank you to everyone who's been leaving comments, they are all absolutely amazing and so helpful, and they make me so very happy, you guys are wonderful!  
> Another big thank you to the wonderful Sarah Black who has given me some really awesome ideas regarding the wedding - you are the best!

“And then, he didn’t only propose in wintertime, but you’re also planning to have a summer wedding, just like us, and you’re also not having any groomsmen and bridesmaids, just like us. I mean, it’s a miracle your fiancé didn’t get confused and managed to propose to you instead of _my_ husband” Renly tells Sansa, in a mock-exasperated tone. He does seem to enjoy the thought that his brother stole all his ideas, but Sansa seems to know he doesn’t mean it because she laughs and lets him go on.

Shireen closes her eyes, enjoying the sunshine, still warm and golden in the last days of August. She spent almost all of her summer with her mother in Brightwater, and though she enjoyed being with her for so many consecutive weeks, she did miss King’s Landing and the other side of her family terribly. Skype became her new best friend, as she would spend the time her mother was working chatting with Myrcella in Casterly Rock, her father and Sansa in King’s Landing, Devan in Cape Wrath, and Bran in Winterfell, who sometimes managed to get Jojen and Meera join the chat from Greywater. As good a substitute as the video calls might have been, it was nothing like sitting in uncle Robert’s yard for a family barbecue.

She opens her eyes to look around her. Aunt Cersei is inexplicably absent from the gathering, but Shireen doesn’t mind much since her aunt has always been a little cold and aloof. Uncle Robert is manning the grill. He sports an unkempt beard, wears a tacky colourful shirt and flip-flops, and he looks like he’s carrying triplets instead of twins now.

Loras and Renly are sitting at the table, looking stylish despite their casual clothes, and holding hands while they follow different conversations. They’re still tanned from their vacations in Dorne, and Loras’s chestnut hair still retains its lighter, summer shade. 

Tommen is sitting next to Loras, using the caps from the opened beer bottles as monocles. He’s grown taller, but he still hasn’t got rid of his baby fat. He’s still as sweet as ever though, and Shireen thinks he’ll never be an ass like Joffrey. 

Her father and Sansa are sitting opposite to her, also holding hands, although Sansa often has to let go of her fiancé’s hand to show her ring to Renly, even though he’s already seen it a million times. They look as happy as ever, leaning back on their chairs with their shoulders touching.

Myrcella is sitting at the end of the table, looking at her phone and sulking a little for some reason. She’s also grown tall, taller than Shireen, and now she looks like a model, with long legs and very few curves, a beautiful face with delicate features, and long, golden hair that draws everyone’s attention. Shireen doesn’t feel that jealous of her anymore. Her own body is still trying to figure out what goes where, and her face is also still a little indecisive about her features’ size and position, but at least her legs somehow create the illusion that she’s taller than she really is, and, most importantly, she has now completed her acne treatment and her skin is even better than before – smooth and unblemished.

“If you also hold the ceremony in the same sept as we did, I really don’t know what I’m going to do, probably sue for copyright infringement or something” Renly continues undeterred by Sansa’s laughter, and attacks the steak Robert has placed in front of him.

“We’re not going to marry in a sept” Shireen’s dad corrects him as he serves Sansa some salad.

“Oh, right. It’s very fashionable of you” Renly teases.

“It’s not a matter of fashion, you know how I feel about organised religion” his older brother says crisply, obviously ignoring Renly’s playful tone.

“We’re actually thinking about holding a traditional northern ceremony, which means we will have to marry in a godswood, under a heart tree. Isn’t it a nice idea?” Sansa says happily.

“Oh yes. Pagan ceremonies are so much better than organisied religion, aren’t they, Stannis?” Renly says amusedly.

“Our brother is a heathen!” uncle Robert booms from the grill, but his joke sounds oddly half-hearted to Shireen.

“Really now, Renly, Robert. Sansa’s family is from the north and these traditions are part of her heritage. Besides, we thought it would be nice to hold the ceremony and the reception at the same place, and since it will be summer, there’s nothing better than to have it outdoors, where people can enjoy the nature. It’s supposed to be a little laid-back” Shireen’s dad says, and though he sounds irritated when he starts, he sounds more and more pleased as he talks about their wedding ideas.

“Nature? Laid-back? Who are you and what have you done to my brother? Loras, I don’t recognize this hippie!” Renly guffaws and he accidentally knocks the mustard bottle down. Loras sets it up again, looking amused.

“It really is a wonderful idea though” he says, smiling at his brother-in-law and Sansa. “I suppose then you will have the wedding in Winterfell? I don’t think there’s even one decent godswood here in King’s Landing”

“Oh yes, we wouldn’t mind having the wedding here, but there really isn’t anywhere to have it. But even in Winterfell it’s so hard to find a place that we like well enough, and that will permit us to have the reception there too, and that the dates will be convenient to book. And I want it to be just right and it’s so hard” Sansa says all flustered and excited at once. Shireen has heard that people eventually get sick of planning their own wedding, but Sansa doesn’t seem to be at that stage yet, quite the opposite.

“It’s very tiring and annoying sometimes, but all in all, it’s also great to organize this big party to celebrate your love, isn’t it Renly?” Loras says sweetly.

“What? Nah, I only did it for the gifts, the cake and the booze” Renly says, but Loras laughs and kisses him.

“We are very excited too – we know it’s going to be very time-consuming and tiring, but like you said, we do want to celebrate our love with everyone else that we love” Sansa says, looking at Shireen’s dad adoringly. “We want everyone to be as happy as we are”

At this, Myrcella, who has remained unusually quiet for most of the time, gets up abruptly from the table and storms off to the house.

“What’s gotten into her?” Loras wonders. Uncle Robert is suddenly very interested in the sausages he’s grilling and doesn’t say anything.

“Shireen, do you want to go check on her?” Sansa asks with a gentle smile, after a few minutes pass and Myrcella doesn’t return. Shireen nods and gets up from the table, looking wistfully at her own juicy steak.

She finds Myrcella in her room, lying on her back on her flowery bedspread. Judging by the way she stares at the ceiling, Shireen assumes she’s trying to bore a sizeable hole in it, relying solely on her vision.

“Why did you storm off like that?” Shireen asks as she stands in the middle of the room. Normally she would sit on the edge of the bed, but somehow she gets the feeling Myrcella wants her to stay back.

“I didn’t storm off” Myrcella retorts, in a tone that indicates that’s exactly what she did.

“Okay, you’re clearly annoyed with something, so will you just tell me?”

“I’m not annoyed, just let me be!”

“Is it because you won’t get to be a bridesmaid at the wedding?” Shireen suddenly realizes.

“Gods, I couldn’t care less about the wedding!” Myrcella groans annoyed.

“Look, stop being such a dork and tell me-”

“You stop being such a dork!” Myrcella shouts, and now she actually looks very angry.

“Myrcella, what’s wrong?” Shireen asks and she makes sure to drop her voice a little, trying to show Myrcella that she’s not trying to start a fight with her.

“Mum and dad are getting a divorce. Happy now?” Myrcella says, and though her voice cracks, there are no tears in her eyes.

“What?” Shireen says dumbly. Uncle Robert and aunt Cersei have never seemed to be very much in love, but it never crossed her mind that they might separate.

“Mum says she’s sick of dad cheating on her and dad says he’s sick of living with an ice queen. It’s been a magnificent shitstorm here these past few weeks” Myrcella says.

Shireen remembers how aunt Cersei made a terrible scene at Loras and Renly’s wedding, and how uncle Robert didn’t try to stop her, and it crosses her mind now that maybe he wasn’t too drunk, maybe he just didn’t care. And for some reason she also remembers that one time she and Sansa went to her appointment with doctor Pylos and saw uncle Robert leaving the doctor’s office, and the thought suddenly pops in her head that doctor Pylos is also a venereologist, but she forcefully pushes these thoughts away for the time being.

“Is that why you left the table?” she asks, trying to understand.

“Everyone is so _happy_ and I _hate_ it” Myrcella says, pressing her palms on her face. “Renly and Loras are still like stupid newlyweds, and your dad and Sansa are so disgustingly cutesy, organizing their perfect wedding for their perfect common life and over here my parents want to murder each other with words. Ughhh divorces suck so haaaard!” she groans.

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” Shireen asks, still trying to keep up. She and Myrcella have always shared pretty much everything, and she doesn’t understand why her cousin wouldn’t share something so important with her.

“What, to you?” Myrcella scoffs. “You’ve also been on cloud nine ever since uncle Stannis asked Sansa to marry him. You’ve got the wedding fever”

“And I’m also the only person you know whose parents are divorced” Shireen reminds her dryly, biting back a comment about how Myrcella also seemed pretty stoked about the wedding until recently.

“It’s not the same, Shireen. You were a baby when they divorced. It’s like it never happened. And now your dad is getting married again and everything is peachy”

“Um, come again? _It’s like it never happened_? My parents have been on a cold war for the past twelve years. I don’t dare mention one in the other’s presence, lest they self-combust from sheer dislike; they met once last year face to face and there almost was a nuclear holocaust. Gods, you really _are_ a dork” Shireen says. She could get mad at Myrcella, but it’s almost comical how she’s conveniently ignored Shireen’s situation all these years.

“What, are we comparing how much our parents’ separation sucks now?” Myrcella says and sits up on the bed. She’s still refusing to cry, but Shireen thinks it would do her good.

“What’s wrong with you today? I just meant I know what you’re going through, and you can talk to me about it if you want. Obviously it’s not exactly the same situation, but still. I get you” Shireen says steadily as she sits next to her cousin on the bed. Myrcella doesn’t move away.

“Is it bad that I want them to stay together? Even though they hate each other’s guts?” Myrcella asks then, her voice softer and lower.

“No” Shireen says firmly. “But it really is for the best that they separate if they are so miserable together. Look, I know you can’t see it now, but it will get better eventually”

“You’re right, I really can’t see it now” Myrcella says and laughs mirthlessly.

“That’s ok. But please, talk to me about that stuff, don’t keep it all inside” Shireen says soothingly.

“Fiiiine. Hey, can I come and stay with you when they start throwing ashtrays and vases at each other?”

“Sure, my dad and Sansa have always dreamed of taking in a stray” Shireen says and nudges her cousin.

“Gods, who’s a dork _now_?”

//

“Myrcella said that Uncle Robert and Aunt Cersei are getting a divorce” Shireen says when they’re in the car going home.

“Yes” her father says flatly.

“You _knew_ about this?” she asks accusingly. She really doesn’t like being kept in the dark.

“Robert told us when you were with Myrcella. But it would be a lie if I said we hadn’t all suspected for some time now” her dad says, and he sounds tired.

“Myrcella says they’re shouting at each other all the time, right in front of her and Tommen. This is sick!” Shireen says, and she suddenly feels very upset. If anything, at least her parents always tried to avoid mentioning their opinion about each other to her, as much as they could. Perhaps Myrcella was right after all. Perhaps she really is very lucky and doesn’t know how ugly divorces can get.

“People can experience very extreme emotions when they’re in such situations. Sometimes it’s really hard to control their anger” Sansa says. Her voice is calm, but Shireen can see that her eyes are sad.

“It’s still not right” Shireen insists.

“That they are divorcing?” her father asks confusedly and there’s tension in his voice.

“No, that’s obviously what they should do” Shireen says dismissively. “I meant the fighting”

“No, it isn’t” her father agrees. Sansa touches his arm lightly, because he’s been gripping the steering wheel too tightly, and he seems to relax a little.

“Why did they even marry in the first place? They’ve always looked so… not interested in each other” Shireen thinks out loud, and though she’s talking about her aunt and uncle, she’s thinking of her mother and father.

“They did seem to, er, be somewhat fond of each other in the first few years… But that was a long time ago” her father says, and Shireen somehow cannot make herself believe that this sentence could ever apply to him and her mother.

“Somewhat fond of each other? And they had three children while they didn’t love each other? Isn’t that supposed to be a really bad idea? Didn’t… didn’t anyone _tell_ them?” Shireen continues, still feeling rather upset. She has spent all her life ignoring the situation between her uncle and aunt, but it suddenly seems so glaringly obvious that they have acted… _irresponsibly_ , and she can’t understand how everyone has been acting like nothing has been wrong all these years. Despite the passion in her voice however, her father falls silent.

“We cannot tell people how to lead their lives, Shireen, no matter how much we love them and how wrong we think they are. We can only stand by them, and help them when they ask us to” Sansa says carefully. Her tone is gentle, but not condescending. Shireen falls silent too, contemplating what Sansa has said.

“Can you please promise you will stay together until the end of the world? I really don’t fancy any more separations” she sighs eventually. Her father and Sansa laugh at this.

“We can promise that, right?” her father says and looks at Sansa for confirmation before focusing on the road again. She nods her head vigorously.

“I think we just exchanged our vows” Sansa says with a laugh. “But I still want to have a proper ceremony”

“For the gift list, the cake and _the booze_ , I presume?” Shireen’s dad recalls his younger brother’s words, the edges of his lips lifting upwards by a fraction of a millimeter.

“Absolutely” Sansa says seriously, but she can’t keep a straight face for long and both she and Shireen burst into laughter.


	13. age fourteen (part two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shireen hears strange noises again / Robert gives Stannis a gift

She wakes up in darkness, and she feels more than knows that it’s way past midnight. Her throat feels parched and her tongue is like a rug and she thinks that she should probably not have had so many salty snacks before going to bed. Her hand reaches out, fumbling in the dark to find the glass of water she always keeps on her nightstand, but it stops mid-air when she hears the noise.

For a few moments Shireen is eleven years old again, groggy from sleep and utterly confused by the sounds coming from the other side of the apartment. She recognizes Sansa’s muffled, incoherent voice, and once again the thought crosses her mind that she must be in pain.

And then she’s back to fourteen, and she knows with complete certainty that Sansa is most definitely _not_ in pain. Sansa is having _sex_. With Shireen’s _dad_. Her heart stops and she feels blood rushing to her face. She jumps from her bed and nearly trips in her sheets in her rush to reach her desk at the other side of her room. She shuffles her school books that are spread on her desk in panic – she should really start keeping her desk more organised – searching for her phone, while at the same time she makes tremendous effort not to pay attention to the sounds breaking the silence of the apartment. It only makes her pay more attention to it though, and she thinks she can hear her father’s strained voice as well now. _Great_. She finally finds her phone and headphones, puts them on quickly and scrolls frantically through her playlist to find something that will drown out the horrible sounds completely. 

She takes a deep breath when the loud and noisy music of Queens of the Stone Age starts pounding on her eardrums, drowning out everything else. But even if the roughness of desert rock can protect her ears from the unwanted sounds when she lies in bed again, it can’t protect her mind from her own thoughts. _“I wanna make it wit chu / anytime, anywhere”_ Josh Homme croons, and Shireen actually has to skip to the next song, _because she doesn’t want to think of sex, no, she really doesn’t._

She wants to scream because it feels so embarrassing – to have heard something so private, and something that everyone makes it sound a little bad, a little dirty. And a part of her is also embarrassed for being so silly at eleven – thinking that her dad was hurting Sansa, really!

She has always known about sex – thankfully her parents never pretended that babies come out of cabbages – but she has always thought about it in relation to baby-making. Perhaps it is her parents’ fault too, who tried to battle their awkwardness on the matter by trying to pretend it’s all biology and it’s all about procreation. It wasn’t until fairly recently that she realized people are having sex for fun, for pleasure. It is because she’s watched a few movies with more mature scenes in them; it is because everyone at school is talking about it now; it is because suddenly everything sounds like an innuendo, when it seemed so innocent before; it is because she’s sort of started feeling it too sometimes, that strange heat that wakes up and starts spreading in her body at the strangest of times. 

There was this time just a few weeks ago for example. She was at Bran’s, playing the new Witcher game, and as they soon discovered there were an awful lot of sex scenes in there. The first time Geralt went on to have sex with Yennefer, Bran and Shireen didn’t even know how they ended up with that option. They just stood in awkward silence watching the scene play out, and Shireen was silently praying that it would be over soon. If she was with Myrcella, she could probably laugh about the whole thing, but this was Bran, and he was a _boy_. She didn’t dare look at Bran, not for one moment, not wanting to risk the possibility of terribly awkward eye-contact, and she ended up looking at the computer screen because she didn’t want Bran to think she was some sort of baby that had never heard of sex before. And to her surprise, despite the fact she knew it was all fake –it was just pixels after all!- her body started responding. A heat started spreading between her legs, and her nipples, which were a lot more sensitive now than they were a year ago, started peaking under her shirt. Mortified at the thought that Bran might somehow notice, she crossed her arms over her chest firmly, and refused to uncross them almost until it was time to leave.

She wonders now if it’s always going to be like this, so awkward and inconvenient, or if there will come a time when she will be able to control it, or maybe even want it. She raises the volume, hoping in vain that somehow the music can actually drown her thoughts. But when she falls asleep, she’s still thinking about sex.

The next morning is a Saturday, and Shireen emerges from her room in the musical accompaniment of the Habanera from Carmen. Sansa is sitting at the dining table, looking at wedding magazines and singing along. She says operas are her only chance to speak some French nowadays. Next to her, Shireen’s father is reading the newspaper, and he’s absentmindedly tapping his fingers to the rhythm of the song. Sansa asks Shireen cheerfully if she slept well, to which Shireen is forced to lie and say that she slept like a log. Then, without thinking it, she asks if they had a good sleep too. She catches the mischievous look Sansa gives to her father, and the way her father’s cheeks colour slightly, and she really wishes she wasn’t so polite sometimes.

//

“Can we have a pet?” Shireen asks. They’ve just left the Stark house after a short visit, and they’re heading to one of the godswoods of Winterfell that they haven’t checked yet. In their short visit though, Rickon had enough time to show Shireen his new hamster.

“You want a pet?” her father asks in surprise. Sansa is too busy giving him directions to join the conversation.

“I’ve always wanted one” Shireen says, and it’s true. Her mother never let her have one, and Shireen didn’t think there was a point in asking her dad if she wasn’t going to see the pet for more than two days per week. But now that she lives with him and Sansa, she hopes things can be different.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea, Shireen” her father says seriously. “Pets require a lot of attention and a lot of space. We live in an apartment and we are all far too busy to give proper attention to an animal”

“I’m not saying we should get something big, like a dog. There are other pets that don’t require so much care and time. Like hamsters, and parakeets, and fish” Shireen argues. She suspected her father might be opposed to the idea, but she didn’t think he would straight up say no from the start.

“You think a decent fish tank doesn’t take space or it doesn’t require very careful maintenance? Ask Devan how much care their fish require. And who’s going to clean the cage of the hamster or the bird? Who’s going to feed them?”

“ _I_ can do it, that’s the point!” Shireen reminds him. 

“It’s a very big responsibility, Shireen” her father says as he enters a side road. 

“I know it is. I just thought it would be nice to have a pet and care for it. Sansa…?” Shireen turns to her for help, to support her case.

“Your father is right, Shireen. It is a very big responsibility, but even if you don’t count that, are you prepared for the possibility that your pet might… not live? It is extremely painful; it’s probably better that you don’t experience that” Sansa says with a gentle and sad voice. Shireen suddenly remembers that Sansa had a puppy which was probably killed by her ass of a cousin Joffry, and she realizes she was wrong to count on Sansa’s support.

“I just thought it would be nice” she repeats feebly. She’s ready to bring on more arguments even though she knows she’s basically already lost the battle, but she drops the subject because they have just arrived at the godswood.

It is the fifth or sixth that they have visited, not counting the few sad ones in King’s Landing. So far there hasn’t been one that has felt exactly right, or is free to book in June, or has enough space to hold the wedding reception as well. Shireen zips up her jacket to protect herself from a gust of wind as she walks behind her father and Sansa. It’s the middle of October and though the weather in King’s Landing is still relatively mild, the temperature has started to drop in Winterfell. They walk in silence under the sentinel trees, the needles crushing under their feet. The keeper of the grounds is giving them details about the godswood, how old it is and how big the heart tree is, but Shireen is not paying too much attention. She’s keeping her eyes open in case she sees a squirrel running from tree-branch to tree-branch, and so she is caught off guard when they reach the clearing where the heart tree is.

It is by far the most beautiful one they have seen, its massive trunk silvery white under the cloudy sky and its leaves blood-red. It somehow looks healthier and more alive to Shireen than the others, more present and almost commanding. She looks up at the crimson canopy, and then around her. Even in the oncoming drabness of mid-autumn, with the bleak sky and fallen tree leaves, this place looks beautiful. It’s going to be even better in the summer when the grass will be green again and the trees will have brand new, soft leaves. For a few minutes no one is speaking, and the only sounds are the rustling of trees in the wind. Shireen is not religious in any way, but she can understand why people thought such places where good enough to worship the old gods – even she can feel the mystic beauty of the forest. She looks at her father and Sansa, wondering what they think. Neither of them is paying attention to her, clearly lost in their thoughts and picturing the wedding ceremony here.

“This is it, right?” she asks hopefully when they seem to get back from their daydreaming. 

“This is it” Sansa nods, and her eyes sparkle with excitement. 

There are things that need to be sorted out, like the booking and the price, and the keeper gives them a card and refers them to the events manager for more information.

“Do you know if it is allowed to hold receptions here, except for the ceremony?” Shireen’s dad asks. 

“No, not here” the keeper says, and Sansa’s face grows long. “But we have a nice garden adjacent to the godswood if you want to take a look. You can hold all sorts of events there” he adds, and Sansa’s eyes are full of hope again.

The garden looks a little sad, the ground covered with fallen leaves and the trellises wrapped in naked branches. But it is spacious, and like with the godswood, Shireen can imagine how the grass will be lush and soft in the summer, and the trees will be full of new leaves, and the trellises will be hidden under sweet-smelling flowers. This time she doesn’t need to ask her father and Sansa what they think. Their smiles tell her all she needs to know, and she suddenly can’t wait for the summer, when their expectations will align with reality.

//

Her father comes back home one afternoon holding a box and looking rather irritated.

“Shireen, have you been telling people you want a pet? I thought we talked about this”

“Um, no? I mean, everyone knows anyway?” Shireen says confusedly and looks up from the samples of wedding invitations she’s been examining with Sansa. “Why?”

“Because your uncle Robert decided to gift me with a turtle today” her father replies and sets the box in front of her on the dining table. Shireen looks inside the box in disbelief. There actually is a baby turtle in there.

“Um. Has the divorce scrambled his brains? Isn’t he supposed to be spoiling Tommen and Myrcella instead of me?” she asks bemusedly.

“Shireen, that’s not very nice to say” Sansa scolds her, but she’s also looking curiously at the small turtle.

“So you don’t know anything about this” her father clarifies. He still looks irritated, but Shireen knows his irritation has shifted to his brother – there’s always the same look of disbelief and defeat on his face when he’s annoyed with uncle Robert.

“No. I would have never asked for a turtle anyway” Shireen says.

“I see. Now I have to find some reptile rescue center or something, as if I don’t have more important things to do” her father grunts and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“That was not very polite of Robert” Sansa sighs, gives him a quick appeasing kiss and goes to the kitchen to check on the food, probably thinking that the conversation is over.

“Or maybe we can keep it?” Shireen asks carefully.

“You just said you don’t like turtles” her father reminds her, getting irritated again.

“I said it wouldn’t be my choice of pet. But this one looks cute, and it’s already here…”

“We _talked_ about this” he says half-annoyed, half-tired. “We know nothing about turtles – what they eat, what they need, nothing. And we are busy as it is, we really cannot take this extra responsibility now”

“Can we at least try? I mean, can _I_ try? I’ll be the one responsible for it. I’ll read everything there is to know about turtles, and I’ll feed it and clean its cage or whatever it needs… You won’t have to do anything at all, except maybe take it to the vet. I promise I’ll do a good job” Shireen says passionately. She’s never been really interested in turtles, and she can’t imagine them being very fascinating or cuddly pets. But she really, really wants to have someone – something - to care for.

Her father looks at her searchingly for a few long moments, as if he’s trying to determine her credibility and responsibility just by looking at her face.

“You remember what Sansa said, right? What if something happens to it? What if you get attached to it and then it… dies? I don’t want either of you to be sad if I can avoid it” he says gently.

“Dad” she says and now she’s almost laughing, because she finally has a great argument. “Turtles can live for many decades. This one is probably going to bury us all”

His lips get tugged in a smile for an instant –an automatic reaction of pride to any instance where she displays some sort of knowledge, no matter how common it is – but then he looks uncertain again.

“If we keep it, I don’t want a Christmas present, or a birthday present” Shireen says, feeling rather magnanimous.

“We’ll need to think about it” her father says sternly, and Shireen nods obediently, but the moment he leaves for the kitchen, probably to ask Sansa what to do with this new madness, she carefully takes the little turtle outside of the box and holds it at her eye level.

“I think you’re going to stick around” she tells the turtle reassuringly, even though she’s in no position to make such promises. The turtle is unimpressed by her statement anyway.


	14. age fourteen (part three)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People have opinions about the turtle's name / People have opinions about Sansa's name too

“What are you doing here?” Renly asks when he enters the living room, tossing his briefcase on the only free couch. “Loras, I thought I said no more strays!”

“Wow, such a warm welcome, Renly. If we knew you’d be so excited we’d come more often” Myrcella says sarcastically from the couch she’s sprawled on. She’s glued to her phone and doesn’t bother to look at her uncle.

“I have work to do, she just tagged along” Shireen explains. She’s crouching over a big carton on the floor, colour-coding her puzzle pieces into different bags. She has to keep swatting Myrcella’s hyperactive limbs away, or else some pieces are bound to get lost.

“I don’t see what’s the hurry with the puzzle” Renly tells her as he gives a quick kiss to Loras, who’s working on his laptop at the dining table.

“I told you, I don’t want to leave it for the last minute in case something goes wrong. What if I finish the puzzle and find out that a piece is missing or something?” Shireen says stubbornly. Ever since her father and Sansa started the preparations for the wedding she was trying to think of a present for them. She didn’t want to get them something ordinary, something ready-made that could be found in any shop and had nothing personal about it. It had taken her some time, but she eventually got the best idea: she’s going to make a puzzle out of Sansa’s favourite painting, and then she’s going to frame it like an actual painting. Her dad is going to like it too, because he tends to like everything Sansa likes. It’s supposed to be a surprise though, so she’s conspiring with Renly and Loras for the whole thing. She went and bought the puzzle with them, using her pocket money, and she’s putting it together at their place because she doesn’t want to risk Sansa or her dad finding out before the wedding.

The trip to the national art gallery was one of their earliest outings, back when Shireen was sulking about everything and secretly hoped Sansa would magically vanish and leave her and her father alone. But despite her horrible mood, she had begrudgingly enjoyed looking at the famous paintings, whose beauty often seemed to transcend the need for a deeper meaning. Sansa had said then that The Kiss by Klimt was her favourite painting about love, because it seemed so genuine. Shireen had scoffed of course, thinking it really boring and lazy of her to pick such a famous painting as her favourite. But now that she has to look at the picture on the lid of the puzzle box every two seconds, she thinks she gets it. There is indescribable gentleness in the way the man holds the woman’s head, and the woman’s smile seems knowing to Shireen, like they have loved each other for a long time, and yet every kiss is as good and gentle as the first one. Sometimes, when she just looks at the pictures and doesn’t think of how many pieces she has and how there are too many dark parts that are going to be a bitch to put together, she catches herself wondering whether someone is going to hold her like this one day too, and whether her smile is going to be so knowing and happy.

“Well I hope you get done soon, this thing is somehow always in the way, and Loras keeps scolding me about stepping over it whenever I get in the walk-in closet” Renly complains as he takes his jacket off and loosens his tie. “I really don’t see why you couldn’t do it in your bedroom and hide it under your bed or something”

“I told you, if I did it at home I run the risk of either my dad or Sansa walking in my room and seeing it. Plus I really don’t have any space in my room now because we keep the turtle’s tank there”

“Oh yeah, how’s that going? When Robert told me what he did, I half-expected your father to force-feed him turtle soup in true Darwin style, not take it home” Renly chuckles.

“And to think that mum wanted to take me away, just when dad got so interesting.” Myrcella sighs, still glued to her phone. Shireen shoots her an amused look. She seems to be taking the divorce a little better now, trying to see the funny side of it in true Myrcella fashion. Perhaps the fact that aunt Cersei has returned to Casterly Rock with Tommen and isn’t picking up fights with uncle Robert every minute of every day is helping after all.

“Sansa is totally on board now, actually, probably because the turtle is going to grow older than any of us. She thinks it’s really cute. Dad is not so crazy about it, but Sansa says sometimes the people who are the most skeptical end up loving their pets more than anyone else”

“Somehow it’s easier trying to imagine Stannis petting a reptile instead of something nice and fluffy” Renly says amusedly.

“That’s mean” Shireen complains, but she can’t help but laugh a little because she kind of gets what Renly means. Once when she was little, her dad had taken her to the zoo. She was too scared to pet the alpaca in the petting zoo, so she made her dad do it for her. She had never seen him look more uncomfortable.

“You still haven’t decided on a name?” Loras asks.

“Nope. I don’t know why it’s so hard”

“Have you thought about the Great A’Tuin though?” Loras, corporate lawyer by day and Discworld fanatic by night, insists.

“My turtle is just a tiny box turtle, I don’t think it fits” Shireen says politely. “But at least your idea is original. Devan suggested I call it George, or Martin”

“Boriiiiing!” Myrcella says.

“Well it’s not like your idea is any better” Shireen says defensively. It’s fine if she says Devan is not original, but it’s really _not_ ok when someone else does it. “You suggested I call it World Dominator!”

“Well you can’t say that isn’t original” Renly snorts.

“Have you _seen_ it? It looks so tiny and harmless, but it’s totally planning something evil!” Myrcella retorts and finally puts her phone aside.

“Yes, it’s going to murder us all in our sleep, very, very, very slowly” Shireen says sarcastically as she continues filling in the frame of the puzzle one difficult piece after another. Renly comes to stand next to her and picks the lid of the puzzle box to examine the picture.

“Well look at that. I hadn’t noticed that the man has black hair and the woman red hair. Just like-”

“Dad and Sansa, I know” Shireen says happily. “It fits so well”

//

Between taking care of the turtle – which is a lot more demanding and costly than she had expected, but she’s never going to admit that to her father –, following the ongoing preparations for the wedding, keeping up with schoolwork and keeping an eye on Myrcella to make sure the divorce is not too hard on her, Shireen feels like they have reached the Christmas holidays at the speed of light. 

They’re invited at the Starks for Christmas Eve, and it amuses Shireen how familiar the house has become to her in this past year. Just a few days ago she was here for an entire day, to celebrate Bran’s birthday with Meera and Jojen. Bran was even more relaxed about the whole thing this time around, as in he didn’t even want to get out of the house. They had a Lord of the Rings marathon, and though Catelyn didn’t think it was a good idea for them to be glued to the TV for so many hours on end, she did make snacks inspired from the books, which Shireen thought was rather lovely of her. Ned had volunteered to drive Shireen to and from Winterfell so her own father and Sansa could have some alone time on their anniversary. Shireen had never paid much attention to Ned, because he had always been rather quiet, but during those two hours in the car with him she had decided that she liked him. He was a calm man, and though he had very interesting stories to tell, he seemed interested in what she had to say as well. And though Bran had his mother’s colours, there were certain mannerisms – the way he smiled or cleared his throat before he said something – which Shireen could now trace back to Ned.

Shireen has spent a few other Christmas holidays with the Starks, but it’s always been at uncle Robert’s place. Now with the divorce, with Myrcella and Tommen at Casterly Rock and Renly and Loras at the Reach, uncle Robert has found a place at his oldest friend’s Christmas dinner, drinking copious amounts of mead and constantly complimenting Catelyn on her cooking. Catelyn is a little too distracted by everything else that’s going on to pay much attention to Robert though. 

Robb, his wife and baby Ned are spending the holidays with the in-laws, but Jon has managed to get some days off and has returned to Winterfell with a new girlfriend. Her name is Ygritte and she works with Jon as a park ranger at the Gift. She’s pretty, a lot louder than Jon, and she takes an instant liking to Arya. They spend a solid half hour loudly arguing about vegetarianism and distracting everyone before realizing that they actually agree that not eating meat doesn’t force the meat industry to improve the living conditions of the animals in any way. 

Shireen suspects that normally Catelyn would have been irritated by this complete lack of etiquette, but she’s too busy interrogating Arya’s boyfriend, Gendry. She seems to be having a hard time wrapping her head around the fact that he’s not a university student, has no interest in becoming one, he’s making his living as a medieval sword fighting trainer and likes to make art out of scrap metal in his spare time. In comparison, Shireen’s dad must now look like quite a catch in her eyes, with his respectable job and respectable life choices.

She and Bran of course don’t think there’s anything unrespectable about doing something as cool as medieval sword fighting, and they keep bombarding Gendry with questions he seems a lot more eager to answer than those of Catelyn.

At dessert conversation inevitably shifts to the wedding of her father and Sansa, with everyone asking how the preparations are going and if the wedding cake is going to be as delicious as Catelyn’s black forest cake – to which Catelyn gives a very pleased smile.

“We’re going to have a Stark who’s going to take the Baratheon name after all” uncle Robert says, and Shireen doesn’t know if it’s just the mead that makes him sound so sentimental when he looks affectionately at Sansa.

“Robert, I’m becoming part of the Baratheon family, but I’m not changing my name” Sansa says gently as she smooths down her festive sweater. They’re all wearing one, by Catelyn’s orders, but naturally Sansa is the only one who manages to look stylish in it.

_“What?”_ both Robert and Catelyn say, and Shireen can’t decide which one looks more surprised. Ned looks mildly surprised, but doesn’t say anything. Arya doesn’t bother to hide her grin.

“What do you mean you’re not changing your name, you’re getting married, you’re starting a new life” Catelyn says confusedly, talking over an incoherent Robert.

“I’m still the same person, though. I’ve been using the name Stark for 25 years, I don’t see why I should change it” Sansa says calmly, although she doesn’t seem very happy about the conversation.

“But what about family unity? How does it look when you refuse to take your husband’s name? Cersei refused to take my name and look where we’re now” Robert says, looking shaken.

“We’re unified enough, thank you” Shireen’s dad says crisply, shooting daggers at his older brother for starting such a conversation at dinner.

“You agree with this?” Catelyn says in disbelief.

“It’s Sansa’s choice and I respect it completely” he says simply.

“I’m worried I’m going to have an allergic reaction to my own words, but I actually agree with Sansa. If you think about it, what’s the point in changing your name nowadays? Women have careers, they are known by a certain name, it’s a bad move to change it. Way to go, sister!” Arya says and smiles encouragingly at Sansa, who doesn’t seem to know how to deal with a supportive Arya.

“And if you get divorced, it’s double more embarrassing to return to your maiden name, it’s like letting every random person know what’s going on in your personal life” Ygritte adds thoughtfully.

“I want to make it clear that I have nothing against women taking their husband’s name” Sansa says quickly, looking worriedly at her mother.

“It’s so pointless though-” Arya insists.

“But it’s a very long tradition-” Catelyn tries to say, but gets interrupted by her younger daughter again.

“Traditions aren’t always good, mum”

“No one made any fuss that my uncle Loras didn’t change his name when he married my uncle Renly” Shireen says to Bran as the argument between Catelyn and Arya goes on, interspersed with Sansa’s attempts to put an end to it. She really doesn’t understand what the fuss is – do people think Sansa is going to love her husband less if she doesn’t take his name? That’s just ridiculous!

“What is that, Shireen?” Ned says kindly. He’s been paying a lot of attention to everything she says throughout the evening. Shireen wonders if he’s just interested to know what sort of friends Bran keeps now, or if he’s decided it’s time to get to know his daughter’s soon-to-be step-daughter. Either way, she doesn’t mind much.

“I said, no one asked why my uncle Loras didn’t change his name from Tyrell to Baratheon when he married my uncle Renly. But we’re making such a fuss about Sansa not changing her name, because of whatever reasons… It doesn’t seem fair. With that logic, maybe my father should change his name to Stark, for the sake of _family unity?”_ she says clearly. She feels her cheeks redden because everyone is looking at her now, but she tries to explain her thoughts as well as she can.

“See, I think the kids might be on to something” Ned says to his wife and best friend with a gentle smile, and that seems to somehow conclude the conversation.

Shireen looks nervously at her dad and Sansa, hoping that she hasn’t stepped some line she hasn’t thought of yet, and she feels her cheeks redden even more, because they actually look at her with _pride._

“You kicked some serious ass” Bran says. He has this amused expression on his face that Shireen can’t always decipher. 

“Do you agree?” she asks curiously.

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t even know if there’s any point in marriage, so I definitely wouldn’t expect anyone to take my name. It feels a little like branding cattle”

Shireen stays silent, thinking about it. Bran is apparently way ahead of her on those issues, and she hadn’t realized it.

“Speaking of names, I think I’ve got an idea for your turtle, if you still haven’t decided on one” he changes the subject as he stacks his empty plate on hers. Everyone is getting up from the table now and moving to the living room. Catelyn tells him not to bother, but he continues anyway.

“Oh yeah?” Shireen says curiously. Even though she’s closer with Bran now, she still can’t read him the way she does with Devan and Myrcella sometimes.

“It’s Voldetort” Bran says confidently as he puts the rest of the plates in a stack.

“Vol-”

“-detort. Vol-de-tort”

_“Voldetort”_ Shireen repeats. “As in tortoise-Voldemort?”

“Yes. I mean, I know you have a turtle, but yours isn’t aquatic, so it’s like a tortoise… Anyway, do you like it?” Bran says. Shireen stays quiet for a few moments, pretending that she’s thinking about it, but she can’t help but smile in the end.

“I really hate saying this, but you _are_ a genius. Voldetort it is”

“Good. Consider this your Christmas present” Bran grins at her.

“Cheap-ass” she says, rolling her eyes, but his grin only becomes wider.

“Will you two come to the living room? I’m making cocoa and we’re about to start playing charades” Catelyn says impatiently, but she’s smiling at them.

They obediently follow her in the cozy living room, where people are already being divided into teams by a very bossy Arya. Shireen sits next to her uncle Robert, who musses her hair affectionately and kills whatever germs might be living on her skin with his alcoholic breath. Jon, Sansa and Arya are already arguing about the rules of the game and eventually have to ask Ned for help, just like little children. She looks at her own father, who in turn is looking amusedly at the Stark siblings. There’s something genuine and unaffected about the Starks when they’re all together she thinks with a smile. And if in some way she is supposed consider them part of her extended family now, she doesn’t mind at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say I didn't come up with the name Voldetort myself. It's been around social media for a while I think, but I love lame puns and I am a Potterhead, so I couldn't resist using it. :)


	15. age fourteen (part four)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shireen has something to ask her dad / Stannis and Sansa marry (finally!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update. So this chapter was meant to be one, but I've split it in two, because it got monster-sized. We have the wedding ceremony here, and the wedding reception in the next chapter, which I will upload tomorrow (I hope). Anyway, I hope you like it!

Shireen can’t sleep. She’s been trying for at least two hours now, tossing and turning in her bed, getting wrapped in her bedcovers one minute and kicking them off in annoyance the next. All she has managed is to get her bladder full by drinking water all the time, because being awake gets you thirsty apparently.

It’s only when she returns from the bathroom that she notices the lights in the balcony are on. She steps out in the pleasantly cool night. In King’s Landing the days are already warm, but the nights mercifully retain some of their chill. In the summer it will be sorely missed.

“Dad?”

He’s sitting in one of the comfy wicker armchairs they keep out here, and he jumps in surprise when he hears her voice.

“What are you doing here? Please tell me you haven’t been staying up reading, or worse, playing a computer game” he says sternly and sits up.

“I just couldn’t sleep” she shrugs. It’s not like it’s a big deal. She has no school tomorrow.

He nods, his expression softening slightly. She takes the liberty to sit on the armchair next to his, drawing her legs close to her body and resting her chin on her knees. They stay silent for a while, like they do when it’s only the two of them.

It is two weeks before the wedding. The invitations have been sent out, the catering has been arranged, Sansa’s dress is ready, and Shireen has finished the puzzle. It’s now sitting in a nice frame in Loras and Renly’s walk-in closet, waiting for the right time to be smuggled in the apartment. 

“Dad?”

He hums, letting her know that he’s listening.

“Why did you and mum marry?”

She has avoided asking the question for over ten years. At first because she was too shy and awkward, too scared to get an honest answer – because she always knew it couldn’t be good. And then, as she grew older, it was because she realized her mother and father would probably love to forget their previous connection altogether. But ever since her father proposed to Sansa and they started planning the wedding in earnest, the question has been stuck in Shireen’s mind, quietly at first, but nagging her more and more the closer they get to the wedding. And she thinks, well maybe she has a right to know, if she has to live with her parents’ decisions forever.

Her father is looking at her in surprise, and she doesn’t miss how his face contracts in dislike – an almost pavlovian reaction to the mention of her mother. He looks at her only for a moment before he turns his eyes to the view of the city lights, shining bright in the night, making the stars fade away. This view is one of the things Shireen loves the most about their home. From high up, King’s Landing’s lights can fool you that the city is a beautiful, clean one.

“Why do you ask?” He’s looking far, as if he’s trying to find the edge of the city. Shireen stops herself from wincing. If she has a right to know, he has to have a right to know as well.

“Because I understand why you are marrying Sansa… but I can’t understand why you married mum – or why she married you. You don’t like each other at all” she says simply. They never talk about such things – about how much her parents hate each other’s guts. But they all know, so now she doesn’t see the point in tiptoeing around it. And she is oddly proud of herself, that she feels nothing at all when she states the obvious.

He stays silent for a few moments. She thinks he would rather not answer, but she waits. Her father never avoids a straight question, and his answers are always honest.

“Your mother and I married because we didn’t know any better. We married because we thought this is what we ought to do. Because we didn’t know what a good relationship is supposed to look like. And because we wanted to have a family and it seemed logical to start it with our present partner. Those are all very bad reasons to marry someone. But we didn’t have any good ones” he says finally in a steady, unapologetic voice, still not looking at her.

She nods silently, gazing at the night sky. There was never any love after all, she thinks, and she finds it sad, but not entirely surprising. And strangely enough, she feels a little better hearing her father say out loud the things she could only suspect.

“At least you have good reasons this time around” she tells him, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

That strange expression of his takes hold of his features, the one that appears every time Sansa is mentioned in some way. It’s the expression of a timid, yet happy schoolboy. She wants to laugh every time she sees it, but she restrains herself.

“Yes. I have very good reasons” he says with a faint smile.

She gets up, telling him she will try to get some sleep. He wishes her goodnight, but as she’s about to get inside again, his voice stops her.

“Shireen?”

“Yes?”

He hesitates for a moment before speaking again.

“I was going to say that avoiding mistakes is easier than fixing them. But that’s not really good advice. There’s no way of going through life without making any mistakes. So I will say this: When you do make one, be brave enough to admit it to yourself, no matter how humiliating it might feel. This is always the hardest part. But only if you admit it is a mistake you can go on to fix it. Please remember that” he says seriously, and this time his eyes are meeting hers. She nods slowly, understanding instinctively that he’s probably not talking only about relationships, that this could apply to so much more than failed marriages. 

“Okay” she says. She doesn’t know what else to say, but she’s taking his words seriously, and she hopes he knows.

“Now go to bed”

//

“Are you _sure_ you don’t know if Theon is single?” Margaery asks again as she tries to fasten the clasp of her bracelet.

“Oh, I told you, I don’t know! Just ask Robb, they’ve had a creepy bromance for years” Sansa replies absentmindedly, and Catelyn shoots Margaery a venomous look for daring to be interested in her own love life instead of Sansa’s wedding day. Margaery is oblivious to Catelyn’s looks however, and turns to Shireen to help her with her unruly piece of jewelry.

They are in Winterfell, and they have turned the living room of the Starks into a beauty parlour. A hairstylist and a makeup artist are working quietly on Sansa at the moment. The men of the family have been exiled to Robb’s house, but Theon had to come over and pick up some stuff that Rickon had forgotten to take with him (which turned out to be half his outfit). Margaery opened the door, saw him, and apparently decided she must have him.

“I’ll find out alright” Margaery says decidedly and winks at Shireen and Myrcella.

Myrcella giggles. She and Shireen are supposed to be with the groom’s family, but they are girls, and after all the lines between the Baratheon and Stark families have started to blur a lot, so they get to get ready for the ceremony with Sansa. Myrcella and Shireen are doing each other’s hair and makeup, which means that Myrcella is doing all the work because Shireen is useless with that stuff, no matter how many tips Sansa has occasionally given her. Shireen sits still as Myrcella gives her loose curls with a curling iron. She’s wearing a lilac dress, and in her hands she’s holding the wreath of flowers she’s going to wear. Sansa and Myrcella have called this look “boho-chic”. Shireen just calls it pretty.

Catelyn keeps coming in and out of the room, checking if there’s any last-minute work to be done, or some detail that needs to be arranged. She’s almost constantly on the phone with Ned or Robert, who lets her know how things are proceeding at the groom’s camp. Margaery is just sitting around, reminiscing of some of the funniest moments from Sansa’s hen party. Sansa doesn’t pay much attention. She has a faraway look, and a smile is constantly playing on her lips, sometimes brighter, sometimes fainter. She’s still in her silk robe and fluffy pink slippers. The wedding dress is laid on one of the sofas, waiting for her.

“Oh, sweetheart, what is it?” Catelyn says worriedly when she reenters the room. Sansa has suddenly burst into tears, threatening to ruin her tasteful makeup.

“I – I just love him, and I already miss him – and I – I don’t _know_ why I’m crying!” Sansa sobs. Margaery is already handing her some tissues. The hairdresser and makeup artist leave the room in a hurry, after a curt nod from Catelyn.

“Oh, don’t worry, my darling girl. You will see Stannis soon. It’s just nerves and excitement before the big moment, nothing to worry about” Catelyn says soothingly as she hugs her daughter from the shoulders, trying not to muss her hair. Sansa cries a little bit more, until she calms down in her mother’s arms.

“I can’t wait to get married” she says with a final sniff.

“Any minute now” Catelyn says with an encouraging smile.

Shireen, who at first was alarmed by Sansa’s sudden tears, thinks that the mother and daughter make for a very sweet picture as they hold each other. She supposes it’s better if Sansa gets done with the crying now so that she relaxes a bit and doesn’t have to worry about crying uncontrollably later on. She can only partially sympathise with her though, because she knows she herself is not going to be in danger of crying, no matter how happy the occasion. It’s just not in her nature.

//

Shireen doesn’t want to cry, but she has a hard time holding back the tears. Everything is just so surreal, too perfect to be true. The godswood looks a hundred times more beautiful than she had imagined it would, its foliage a vivid green, filtering the afternoon light and giving it a magical quality. The heart tree with its scarlet leaves looks even more beautiful and imposing than it had in autumn, but also a little like it is more part of this world this time around. And under it, her father and Sansa are about to profess eternal love to each other.

He looks much younger than his years, despite his greying hair. The lines on his face are less visible than ever, and there is something almost childlike in the glint of his eyes. He looks so handsome in his stylish grey suit, and he smiles more than she ever remembers him smile. Opposite to him, Sansa is a vision in her mermaid wedding dress made of the most exquisite Myrish lace. Her immaculate skin is glowing, and her face is framed by a few soft curls that were let free from her elegant updo. Even from a distance, her eyes seem to be the bluest and brightest of blues, and Shireen thinks that she looks like she’s a nymph of the godswood and not a human being. The fact that she was present when this appearance was constructed bit by bit this morning is not enough to make her think otherwise.

The bride and groom are so beautiful to look at that Shireen suspects no one is paying attention to Davos, looking more put together as the best man than Shireen has ever seen him, and Margaery, who is stunning in her tasteful yet sexy gown, but still pales next to Sansa. She risks a look at Catelyn and Ned; they’re holding hands and they already look teary.

Shireen cranes her head a little even though she’s sitting at the front row, between Renly and Loras. The godswood’s officiator speaks of love and devotion, of faith and compassion. He speaks of the sanctity of marriage – how it is one of the strongest bonds, the greatest life journey and the most sincere act of love between two people. He speaks of caring, nurturing and forgiving. Then he stops talking and for a few moments the only sound in the godswood is the sound of leaves rustling in the soft summer wind. Sansa turns and gives her flower bouquet, made of beautiful white freesias, to Margaery to hold and then she turns to face the groom once again. Davos passes them the rings. They both extend one arm and Shireen’s dad clasps Sansa’s hand gently. It’s time for the vows.

“Stannis” Sansa starts, her voice hopeful and joyous and tremulous all at once “They may say the love of your life is the person you end up spending your life with; but with all of life stretching ahead of us, I know that the love of my life is going to be you, because with every passing hour, I will only love you more, and never less” she says and slips the gold band on his ring finger.

“Sansa” Stannis says then, and Shireen’s heart skips a beat because she’s never heard his voice so thick with emotion before “I have only one wish in this life: that one day, people will say I have loved you long and I have loved you well.” He slips the ring on her delicate finger, and his hands seem to shake a little.

There is a lot of sniffling coming from the wedding guests as the officiator produces a piece of cloth with elaborate embroidery. The bride and groom don’t break eye contact as he starts wrapping the cloth around their clasped hands. Sansa’s eyes are sparkling like stars on the sky, and there’s something really fragile about the happy curve of her rosy lips. Shireen’s dad on the other hand looks like he can’t believe this is happening, and Shireen herself can’t blame him. She can’t believe it either that so much love can exist in the world, or that so much love can be professed with looks and smiles. She wonders if she has been blind all this time – how could she have not noticed that they love each other _so much?_

“With this cloth I bind you in matrimony. Speak the words, and pledge yourselves to one another” the officiator says after he ties the cloth in a knot.

“I am yours as you are mine” Sansa says, and her voice is clear and luminous like crystal.

“I am yours as you are mine” Stannis repeats, his voice warm and sincere.

“With these wreaths I crown you king and queen of your family” the officiator says, as he holds the delicate flower wreaths Margaery has given him over the heads of the bride and groom and switches them around three times.

Then Davos and Margaery step in and hold one wreath each over the heads of the bride and groom, and follow them as they make the circle of the heart tree three times, to symbolize that they walk through life together now.

“I pronounce you husband and wife” the officiator says when the circles are completed and the pair is once again standing in front of the heart tree. And Shireen really believes that the two people are becoming one as their lips meet. She’s blinking rapidly and she keeps swallowing, but the lump in her throat won’t go away, and her eyes are already foggy with tears. From both sides, Loras and Renly squeeze her hands.

The husband and wife kiss again, and even though the guests are already clapping and cheering and throwing flower petals and grains at them, they only have eyes for each other, looking so full of happiness, hope and anticipation for the life they already have together. Shireen claps along with everyone else and she gives up on trying to restrain her tears. She lets them roll down her cheeks freely, too happy to be embarrassed about it.

//

“For someone who didn’t want a religious ceremony, Stannis definitely had the most spiritual one I have seen” Renly says as they linger a little in the godswood, waiting their turn to congratulate the newlyweds. He’s helping Shireen dry her eyes without ruining the little makeup that she’s wearing, and he’s very amused with her emotional reaction.

“It was beautiful though. If we ever renew our vows, let’s do it northern style” Loras says. “But Shireen, you have to promise to cry in our thing too” he says teasingly.

“Oh, shut up” Shireen says, because she can’t think of anything snarky to say now.

She manages to calm down enough, but when it’s her turn to give her congratulations she gets all teary again. Her father and Sansa hug her both at once, and Shireen tries to think of something better than “congratulations” to say. “I love you” she says instead in a muffled voice, because this is what she really feels right now, and it’s meant for the both of them.

“We love you too” they say, half-laughing from the surprise, half-moved by her silly sentimentality, and she knows it’s her father’s hand stroking her hair, and it’s Sansa’s lips pressing lightly against her temple. She holds them until she can trust herself to show her face again, and when she reemerges from the hug, they both beam at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the wedding is a mix of things from the GoT show and the books, but I've also drawn inspiration from christian orthodox weddings and Slavic and Balkan traditions to try to make the northern wedding a little more special and unique.  
> A big thanks to Sarah Black for giving me the idea of having a traditional northern wedding in the first place!


	16. age fourteen (part five)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which people dance, mostly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if half the things in here have any reason to be here, but I had fun writing them so here you go. I hope you like it. :)

The sun is already setting by the time the guests have all trickled in the garden and found their tables. Shireen, Myrcella, Bran, Devan, Rickon and Tommen have a table by themselves instead of sitting with their families. Sansa had thought they might have more fun this way, and Shireen hopes it’s going to work out. Rickon and Tommen like hanging out together, so she doesn’t worry about them. Yet though she’s good friends with Bran, Myrcella and Devan individually, Devan has never met the others and she knows Bran and Myrcella are generally indifferent to each other even though their families are so close. It’s strange to think of herself as the link that connects them, but it turns out she doesn’t have to worry much. For the time they’re waiting for her father and Sansa to make their entrance, Bran and Devan talk about sports and Myrcella whispers in Shireen’s ear that Devan looks kinda hot. Shireen tells her to not even _think_ about it. Myrcella likes a different boy every week, and Devan is too nice to get smacked in the head by her cousin’s irresistible charm.

Her father and Sansa make their entrance when Robert is already getting tipsy. They stand in the middle of the garden to follow the last few northern traditions of the wedding. Catelyn feeds them bread dipped in honey, then Margaery and Davos pour them two glasses of champagne to drink (Shireen remembers her father contemplating at some point whether he should have sparkly water instead). They are supposed to drink up and then turn their glasses upside down and see if any drops are going to fall.

“Can you see anything?” Myrcella asks, craning her neck.

“One, two… four. That’s how many tears they will shed during their marriage” Bran says, squinting. “I bet it’s going to be Sansa who makes your dad cry, Shireen. She’s my sister and I know how bossy she can be sometimes” he winks at her.

“What are they doing now?” Devan asks. A small brass bowl is placed in some distance from Sansa. Shireen’s dad stands back, looking at the little bowl with anticipation.

“The bowl contains some water and three flowers; one yellow, one red and one white. Sansa is supposed to kick the bowl and see if any of the flowers come out. If it’s the red one, she’s going to have a boy, if it’s the white one she’s going to have a girl and if it’s the yellow one she’s going to have twins… Or is it the other way around? Bran?” Shireen says uncertainly.

“No idea, dad is the one who knows everything about the old ways” Ban shrugs. Shireen instinctively searches for Ned with her eyes, and locates him on one of the tables near to them. His eyes still look slightly puffy, and he’s clutching his handkerchief. Shireen smiles sympathetically. Even she has managed to pull herself together, but Ned is not quite there yet.

Sansa lifts her dress a little bit with a playful smile, takes a few quick and decisive steps and kicks the bowl with force, almost making it fly over the grass.

“She should have been a football player” Devan says approvingly, but no one pays attention because they’re trying to see which flower fell out. It is actually all three of them, and the guests cheer enthusiastically.

“So… twins, boy and girl?” Myrcella suggests, trying to figure out the combination.

“It’s just a game” Shireen says, but she’s mostly talking to herself. She looks at her dad, but he is busy being ambushed by Sansa’s excited kisses.

_It’s just a game. Just a silly tradition._

Even though she was involved in a lot of the preparations, Shireen manages to enjoy the wedding in the carefree way that a simple guest would. She enjoys the delicious food, laughs when Myrcella and Tommen bicker like siblings do and teases Bran for trying to position his cane in such a way so that his mother can see it from where she’s sitting. He has admitted to her that he didn’t really need it today, but he thinks it goes well with his suit. She gives Devan an affectionate nudge when Davos gives a moving and heartfelt speech as the best man, saying that true happiness is to see a good friend find happiness with his other half, and she laughs along with everyone else when uncle Robert and Renly manage to snatch the microphone from Margaery when she finishes her own speech so that they might say a word too, just like they had threatened they would.

The sky is already turning into a velvet blue colour when it’s time for the first dance. Everyone stops whatever they’re doing and watch in anticipation as the newlyweds get on the dancefloor, illuminated by the soft glow of the party lights hanging from the trees. 

_“I’ve nothing much to offer/there’s nothing much at stake”_ David Bowie sings, and Shireen smiles even though she already knew what song they had chosen. It sounds different now that her father and Sansa are dancing to it – it sounds like they say those words to each other.

_“As long as we’re together / the rest can go to hell”_

“It sounds a little cheesy and it smells of mothballs, but I like it” Myrcella murmurs.

“Great music never gets old” Shireen says, shushing her.

_“I absolutely love you / but we’re absolute beginners”_

As the song progresses, it seems like everyone and everything has faded away for her father and Sansa. The starry sky under which they dance – it’s only for them. And the soft grass on which they dance – that’s only for them too. There’s something very intimate in the gentle way they’re holding each other and in the way they’re looking at each other. Shireen feels as if she’s not supposed to be watching, as if she’s caught them in a very private moment that is meant to be only for them, a secret to everyone else. And yet she can’t take her eyes off of them, because it’s like the wedding ceremony again, and they are one of the most beautiful sights she has ever seen.

//

The night is magical – this is the only way Shireen can describe it. The party lights give a golden, shimmering glow to the garden, and the air is heavy with the scent of the jasmine and honeysuckle flowers that are covering every inch of the trellises now. Her eyes follow her father and Sansa around the garden from time to time, and almost always she finds them together. They are like this new entity now, one that has absorbed their previous, separate selves and has merged them into one, deliriously happy creature, with one heart and one mind. And people are giddy with happiness – more than in any other occasion she can remember. Ned and Catelyn beam every time someone congratulates them for their daughter’s marriage. Robert is mostly drunk on excitement instead of alcohol for once. Arya seems to be having too much of a good time to even care that she’s wearing a dress, or that people remind her that she’s next in line. And Myrcella seems to have forgotten how allergic she was to happiness last summer.

Shireen smiles as she watches her cousin dance with uncle Robert among the other pairs. She occasionally still says mean things about her parents when they exasperate her, but oddly enough, she seems to be getting along with her father better than ever. And Shireen’s uncle seems to be in a much better place than a year ago, which is a relief for everyone, but mostly for his liver. He’s even stopped giving out crazy presents, save that yacht he gave Shireen’s dad and that beach house he gave Renly, but to be fair he only gave those away so that Cersei couldn’t get them.

“Hello, little princess” someone says, interrupting her reverie.

Shireen looks up and her face lights up. Davos is standing in front of her, smiling. He hasn’t called her “little princess” in a long time, and it’s ridiculous how warm it makes her feel.

“Care to dance with an old scruffy knight?” he says then. 

When she and Devan were little, Davos would often join them in their make-believe games, and Shireen loved nothing more than having him being her faithful knight. She nods without thinking now and follows him to the dancefloor, overcome by nostalgia. He is a tall man and she feels like a little girl again as he holds her gently and they sway in the music. She thinks about all the times he and Marya where there for her and her father, and how it’s thanks to them she has such a dear friend as Devan. She thinks of all the times Davos had comforted her, and how important he must be to her father to choose him as his best man over his brothers.

“Are you happy, little princess?” he asks, and she realizes that she must have not been looking very cheerful lost in her thoughts like that.

“I’m very happy” she says sincerely, and then, as an afterthought: “Thank you”

“Don’t worry about the boys not asking you to dance. It’s not their fault they’re so clueless at this age” Davos says with a wink. Shireen gets confused for a moment, but then she realizes Davos must think she’s sad because she’s only danced with Renly and Loras so far. She tries to tell him that she doesn’t mind at all, but he is distracted.

“Oh. It seems like someone requests a dance with you after all” Davos says with a smile.

Shireen looks around. She sees uncle Robert giving a squealing Myrcella a twirl; she sees Sansa dancing with her father again; she sees Margaery having her arms wrapped around Theon’s neck, who apparently can’t believe his luck. And among them all, she sees her father standing awkwardly by himself, looking at her and Davos. 

Davos steps back, and her father comes closer. He opens his mouth, probably to ask her to dance, but he doesn’t seem to find the words, and Shireen is not surprised. She can’t remember ever dancing with him. She just extends her arms, and he steps close enough for her to put her hand in his. They don’t talk, and there is a dreamlike quality in the whole thing. Her father is looking at her, his eyes gentler and brighter than usual, compensating for his awkward hold. Unlike with Davos, she feels strangely grown-up in his arms. She thinks she ought to be smaller somehow, to look up to him the way she used to as a child. But she thinks she loves him better now, because she can understand him a little better the older she grows. She smiles at him. She doesn’t know if and when she will be the one dressed in white, but something tells her that her composed father will be just as happy if not as emotional as Ned is tonight. When the song ends she hugs him, and he holds her so tight she thinks he’s never going to let go.

//

“No, there’s no way I’m gonna let you sit here and gobble down cake like you did at Loras and Renly’s wedding” Myrcella grunts as she yanks her arm to force her to get up. “You’re coming with me for the bouquet throwing, by the seven!”

“Will you just calm down?” Shireen says annoyed after she swallows her bite. The cake is even better than in their uncles’ wedding – fluffy lemony goodness, fresh and delicious. She gets up in a hurry, worried that Myrcella might tear her dress if she keeps acting like a madwoman.

“Don’t you dare touch my cake” she warns Bran and Devan, who seem very amused with the situation. They sober up when she shoots them a venomous look.

They squeeze in the group of women that are waiting for the tossing of the bouquet – mostly friends of Sansa. Arya is there too, forced by a very determined and cheerful Margaery. Sansa takes her time with the whole thing, making a show out of it, teasing them a couple of times and making her friends hop around like bunnies for no reason. Eventually she follows through. Shireen’s eyes follow the trajectory of the bouquet calmly – she’s close enough to show polite interest, but far enough to make sure she’s not going to catch the bouquet. Arya on the other hand, seems to be ready to be hit on the head with a bunch of pretty freesias. She instinctively steps aside in horror, and the bouquet falls in the arms of a delighted and mildly surprised Jeyne Poole. 

“If there was a word for nepotism but with friends, this would be it” Myrcella complains as everyone claps for Jeyne and Sansa hugs her childhood friend excitedly.

“If you don’t get to catch the bouquet any time soon, I’ll find a random guy, convince him to marry me, have a proper ceremony and all and do a lot of math calculations so that I can toss the flowers and make sure you catch them” Shireen promises amusedly. Myrcella is ready to get annoyed, but she changes her mind.

“See, you say things like that and I remember why I like you so much” she says and gives Shireen a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

//

“Now, I’m gonna be dancing this with my hubby, but this one is actually dedicated to my brother, Stannis, who did learn what love means. I think” Renly says over the microphone, and runs to meet Loras on the dancefloor.

“Oh no, he didn’t” Myrcella says, but she actually looks very amused when “I want to know what love is” starts playing. 

Shireen looks around, and realizes that most of the guests are just as amused as Myrcella. Uncle Robert is already singing the lyrics with his thunderous and very out of tune voice.

Her father is scowling a little, but Sansa is laughing and tries to lead him to the dancefloor as well, but it looks a little like she’s trying to cajole a petulant child. Finally he relents and he follows her to dance what remains of the song, looking more awkward than ever, probably because uncle Robert keeps singing, and now Renly and Loras are offering backing vocals.

“I want to know what looooove is, I want you to shooooow meeee”

Shireen can’t help but laugh at her uncles’ antics, but there’s a part inside her that feels oddly protective of her father in this moment. It’s not his fault if he had to wait for so long for the right person to come into his life, is it? But on the other hand, he shouldn’t get mad that people have given him one more excuse to dance with his wife.

//

She’s watching her father and Sansa hold hands and talk with Davos and Marya, two perfect couples. She studies their moves, and she laughs to herself, because she realizes she and her friends have been trying to act like serious grownups for most of the evening. There was no running around tonight like there was in her uncles’ wedding. There were no happy squeals of small children. There were only a bunch of teenagers drinking sparkling water from wine glasses and talking about grownup things with grownup mannerisms. It reminded Shireen of those tea parties she and Myrcella had when they were little and pretended that they were not five, but twenty. Now they’re still pretending, only they’re closer to twenty than they are to five. It’s fun she thinks, to try to look mature and elegant, but there is a part of her that really wishes she could kick off her shoes and run barefoot on the lush, warm grass.

“Oh, I love this song” Bran says when the first notes of “Playground love” fill the summer air. 

Shireen smiles, because she was the one who asked Sansa to include it in the playlist. It’s a great song. She looks between Bran and Devan, making her mind up quickly.

“Dance with me” she says then decisively.

“What?” Bran says, looking utterly confused.

“Dance with me, if you like the song. Come on, before it finishes” she says impatiently and grabs his hand. He follows her mostly because he’s too surprised to put up any resistance, but by the time they reach the almost empty dancefloor, he’s smiling again.

“I saw you looking between me and Devan just now; why did you pick me?” Bran asks. The skin on his neck feels warm under her arms, and so do his hands on her waist. From so close, she can see all the freckles on his face.

“Because you like the song, silly. And because I know Devan would never ever dance” she says with a laugh. Bran smiles, but he still looks a little confused.

She only looks at him, because she doesn’t want to see if people are watching, and because she’s maybe trying to prove something to herself – that she can slow-dance with a boy who is just her friend and just have fun, if she feels like it. And Bran just keeps smiling a very small smile.

_“You’re the piece of gold that flashes on my soul”_ they sing along, because they don’t want to talk, but they don’t want to stay silent either.

_“Anytime, anywhere, you’re my playground love”_ they sing, but now they look up at the starry sky, because they can’t say such things and look at each other.

For years, every time she listens to this song she will be thinking of a warm starry night, and the sweet scent of honeysuckle and jasmine will fill her nostrils.

//

She doesn’t want the night to end. She doesn’t want to stop talking and laughing with her friends, she doesn’t want to stop dancing with Loras and Renly until she gets sweaty and her breath is heavy. She doesn’t want to stop seeing all the happy couples together, all the fathers and daughters, all the mothers and sons. She doesn’t want the music to stop or the magic to vanish. She wants the world to always smell like a blossomed garden, like earth and grass and crushed petals, and she wants her father and Sansa to always look like they jumped out of a fairy-tail book. She doesn’t want there to be a world where people go to work, clean their houses and do their taxes. She wants a world where people can smile and eat cake and dance in eternity. She wants the night to last forever, but the night is close to turning into day.

People are remarkably energetic despite the late hour when her father and Sansa decide to make their exit. They are going away on a short honeymoon, sailing the new yacht. Shireen will be staying with the Seaworths for those days, and strangely enough, she already misses her father and Sansa.

She is the last one they say goodbye to, drawing her into a big hug, but this time she doesn’t cry. She feels too light-hearted for that. She feels so happy for them.

“Take care” she tells them and she laughs, because this is what parents tell their children usually.

“Be good for Marya and Davos” her father says, but he doesn’t quite manage to look stern. He hesitates for a moment, but then he bends and gives her a quick kiss.

She nods and smiles, and as she watches him and Sansa walk away holding hands, she has the most ridiculous feeling of pride surge through her, as if she’s the parent watching her child embarking on this great journey. The white fabric of Sansa’s gown glows in the dark before it vanishes. In a few days they will all be home again, doing what they’ve always been doing, and though it sounds as if it is the same, Shireen knows that everything has changed. And this time, it’s for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs featured are:  
> "Absolute beginners" by the one and only David Bowie  
> "I want to know what love is" by Foreigner  
> "Playground love" by Air  
> Not featured, but played on repeat while writing this and the previous chapter is "Sea of love" by Iggy Pop.
> 
> A huuuge thank you to Sarah Black for giving me the great ideas to use "Absolute beginners" for the first dance, and to have Renly dedicate "I want to know what love is" to Stannis. They both fit perfectly! <3


	17. age fifteen (part one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stannis and Sansa have big news for everyone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe we've reached age fifteen! Thank you all so much for sticking with this story, it wouldn't have gotten this far without you!  
> Just wanted to let you know though that I will probably not be able to post anything for a couple of weeks. I'm definitely not abandoning this, I'm having way too much fun! I just have to put it on a short hiatus. Sorry about that.

Shireen emerges from her room yawning, with a grumpy Voldetort in her arms. It’s been a week that she’s back in King’s Landing, but her turtle doesn’t seem to be very excited about it. He has grown in size a little, but he’s still quite small and cute, despite his complete lack of interest in her.

The framed puzzle of "The Kiss" catches her eye, like it does every time she enters the living room. It’s now hanging on the wall where an abstract painting used to be, and Shireen thinks it looks much better. Judging by her father’s and Sansa’s enthusiasm and sheer joy when they first saw the present, they think so too.

“Morning” she says happily and puts Voldetort on the dining table. Her father doesn’t like it very much when she does that, because he gets paranoid that the turtle is going to knock the glasses or the vases over, but Shireen thinks he is too tiny to just let him on the floor unsupervised. Sansa has prepared a delicious-looking fruit salad, so she fills her bowl to the rim. Voldetort can have some too, after all.

She looks up, realizing that something is different. Her dad and Sansa are not going on with any conversation, they are not drinking or eating anything, and there is no music playing, like it so often is in the weekends. They are just sitting opposite to her, fingers entwined over the smooth wooden surface of the table, and they are looking at her with a very creepy smile that seems to start from the one end of her father’s face and end on the other end of Sansa’s face.

“Er, is something the matter?” she asks uncertainly.

Her father stirs a little in his seat, and Sansa’s smile only grows wider. Shireen thinks she looks like she’s literally going to burst with happiness.

“We… we have some very good news” her father says, putting visible effort into getting his face muscles under control.

“Oh, you agree that “Rubber Ducky” is a much better name than “Lady” for the yacht?” Shireen asks amusedly. She and Myrcella had been coming up with alternatives for the yet unnamed boat on their skype sessions over the summer.

“Er, no, we’re sticking with “Lady”” her father says, caught off guard by her question.

“It’s something else” Sansa says, and even her voice makes it obvious that she is ridiculously happy about something.

Shireen waits for either Sansa or her father to go on, but they just keep staring at her with that creepy smile. 

“Um, am I supposed to guess what the news is?” Shireen ventures after a long pause.

“No, no” her father says and clears his throat a little. “Shireen, Sansa and I are going to have a b-baby. You’re going to have a little brother or sister” he says with a deep breath.

_What?_ It’s like all sounds have drained from her surroundings, and all she can hear is her father’s voice echoing in her mind. _A baby. A brother or sister._

“You’re pregnant?” she asks Sansa faintly.

“Yes!” Sansa squeals, sounding grotesquely enthusiastic in contrast with Shireen’s underwhelming response.

“How… how long?” she asks then. She really can’t think of anything else to say. Her brain feels numb.

“Two months, we think” Sansa says. She’s practically glowing, and Shireen wonders if she is supposed to. Don’t women feel like they have the plague during the first trimester, throwing up left and right?

“Isn’t it great?” Sansa says, still smiling, but both she and Shireen’s dad seem to expect her to say something.

“It’s – it’s amazing, congratulations!” she says with her most convincing smile, but on the inside she is panicking. Why is Sansa pregnant already? No, why is she pregnant at all? No, scratch that, why is Shireen so surprised? Isn’t that what people do? Get married and have kids? But her dad is a little old to have another kid, isn’t he? And she’s certainly too old to have a brother or sister! But on the other hand Sansa is definitely young enough to have children… And after all, what would they do when Shireen left for university, would they fill the apartment with cats, or worse, rat-faced lap dogs?

She picks a strawberry out of her fruit salad and gives it to Voldetort to munch on. At least he is never going to get knocked up. “Will I get to keep my room? Or are you turning the study room into a nursery?” she asks worriedly. It’s enough that she’s sharing her room with a turtle, she can’t handle a toddler in there!

“That’s actually something else we wanted to discuss with you” her father says, fishing out a slice of lemon from his tea. “We will have to move. We have been house-hunting with Sansa all summer and we think we have found the perfect place. We could go and visit it together if you want, I’m sure you’ll like it” he says.

“We are moving?” Shireen asks incredulously.

“We can’t all fit in here. We will need a lot more space when the baby comes. And we will be living in an actual house, with an attic and a garden, you’ll love it” Sansa says cheerfully, trying to entice Shireen with all the things they can’t have in the apartment.

But the thing is, and she has recently come to understand this about herself, she doesn’t deal well with change. She has a hard time throwing out old clothes, or even chewed down pencils. She forms an attachment to things, to places, to situations. She doesn’t like it when things change and she has no control over it.

“Why didn’t you say anything before? About moving?” she says and she can’t hide that she feels a little hurt. She can understand why they might have wanted to wait to tell her about the baby – two months is quite early actually, isn’t it? - but she doesn’t see why they couldn’t tell her about the house-hunting.

“We wanted to be sure we’re actually going to move before letting you know. We thought you'd have more time to adjust to the idea. The baby… has sped things up a little.” her father says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“It’s a bit of a shock, we understand” Sansa says warmly. “Too much information for a Sunday morning?”

“No, no…” Shireen shakes her head tiredly, even though what Sansa says is completely true. She is shocked, but she’s mostly annoyed at herself, because she should have seen it coming.

“It’s all really great news. The baby, I mean. I’m so happy for you” she says as convincingly as she can. She wonders if she should get up and hug them, but at the present moment she is not certain she can pull it off. She would probably look even more awkward than Voldemort hugging Draco Malfoy in that hilariously cringe-worthy moment in the eighth movie.

On the table, Voldemort’s almost-namesake starts bonking lightly on the salad bowl, looking as indifferent as ever to the problems his mistress might be facing.

//

“I mean, yeah, it is a little weird” Myrcella admits after a few long seconds of deep thought.

“Thank you!” Shireen exclaims, relieved, and digs the points of her trainers in the wet grass in the backyard of uncle Robert’s house.

Uncle Robert has invited his family (that includes the Starks) to dinner to celebrate the finalization of his divorce from aunt Cersei. Shireen’s dad and Sansa used this as an opportunity to announce the pregnancy to Robert, Renly and Loras (the Starks have already been informed in a visit to Winterfell that Shireen was not present to), and Shireen is glad she can finally talk about it with Myrcella and Bran.

“But only for you” Myrcella adds as she sways languidly on her old swing. The evening is chilly and they are sitting inside for the dinner, but Shireen, Bran and Myrcella are staying out until Ramon is ready to serve dinner.

“What does that mean?” Shireen asks confusedly.

“Well, it’s totally fine for everyone else. Uncle Stannis and Sansa want to have children, nothing weird there. Ned and Catelyn are happy they’re going to be grandparents again, nothing weird there either. Dad, Loras and Renly are happy that they’re going to have a niece or nephew. Nothing weird about that too. You’re the only one who has an issue with it”

“Well I’m sorry if I can’t cry tears of joy like everyone else” Shireen says petulantly, and she knows how selfish she sounds even as she speaks. “What do you think about this?” she asks Bran, who is swinging lazily on the other swing, and has stayed quiet this whole time.

“I just realized that I’m going to be an uncle to your brother or sister” he says, somewhere between amusement and confusion.

“Ew, that’s like, a little incest-y” Myrcella says and wrinkles her nose.

“No it isn’t!” Bran snorts. “It’s just weird, just like Shireen said”

“I’m not even thinking about this whole mess, I’m just thinking that I will be so much older than this baby” Shireen says grumpily, because this is what really concerns her. “Like, by the time the kid gets at the age I am now, I will be _thirty_ ” she adds with a quick calculation.

“You could technically be its mother” Myrcella observes.

“Will you cut it down with the incest and the teen pregnancies?” Bran hisses at her when he sees the look of horror on Shireen’s face.

“I’m just saying” Myrcella says sullenly.

“I’ve been alone all my life, I don’t know how to… not be an only child” Shireen sighs. Bran and Myrcella look at her sympathetically, but they can’t really offer any advice on that department. They’ve never been the only child in a family, the sole focus of their parents’ attention.

“Hey, you both have younger brothers, what’s that like?” she asks.

“Well, Rickon and Tommen aren’t that much younger” Bran reminds her. “We were also little when they were born” he adds and Myrcella nods.

“You guys are no help” Shireen complains.

“Will you young whipper-snappers come for dinner?” Renly yells, with only his head sticking out of the patio doors. “We’re trying to convince Stannis and Sansa to name the baby Ziggy Stardust and we need some backup”

//

“You’re not that excited about the baby, are you” Sansa says suddenly and slams her heavy pregnancy book shut. Those things are taking over the apartment the same way that bridal magazines were last year.

It is late on a Wednesday evening. Outside it’s raining, and they’re alone at home. Shireen’s dad is stuck in an important meeting with some potential clients from Pentos. Shireen looks up from her homework, startled.

“That’s not true” she says defensively. One minute ago she was hoping Sansa would pick up a conversation to distract Shireen from her complex High Valyrian grammar exercises, but now she wishes she could go back to learning about the imperative form.

“Shireen, we are not stupid. We know something’s up” Sansa says gently. Shireen notices how she uses “we” instead of “I”. Both she and her father have been using that pronoun a lot more since they got married.

“Honestly? I just don’t know how to be a sister, especially when I have a fifteen year difference from my… my brother or sister” Shireen says plainly, closing her High Valyrian grammar book. If Sansa is going to ask straight questions, she’s going to give her straight answers.

“Is that all?” Sansa asks, looking at her searchingly.

“Pretty much” Shireen says. Now that she has gotten over the initial shock, she really doesn’t have an issue with her father and Sansa having a baby. They are obviously really happy about it, and she has not forgotten how significantly less happy her father was in the pre-Sansa era. And as Myrcella has pointed out, everyone else is extremely happy about it too. Ned tears up every time the baby is mentioned, and Catelyn won’t shut up about the magical journey that is pregnancy. And even uncle Robert, and Davos and Marya seem sentimental about the whole thing. Loras, Renly and Margaery are the only people who retain their calm. A little bit.

No, it’s her own relationship with the kid that she worries about. She’s never really been around babies or very small children. She doesn’t know what to do with them. How do you bond with them? How do you become a sister when you’re too old to grow up with your siblings? She tries to explain those concerns to Sansa, to show her what the real issue is.

“You have been talking about those things with your friends, I assume?” Sansa says with a smile. She suddenly seems a lot more relaxed than a few minutes ago. Her hand is resting on her still flat stomach, like it so often does now. Shireen supposes it’s instinctive.

“Yes, but they weren’t much help. They can’t really relate to the situation” Shireen sighs.

“And you didn’t think to come and ask me? Because I can totally relate to the situation” Sansa says, seemingly amused with Shireen’s oversight.

“What?” Shireen says dumbly. She has been asking this question a lot lately, and she doesn’t like it.

“Oh, come on. I am ten years older than Bran. I was almost your age when Rickon was born. I know what it’s like” Sansa says with a laugh. Shireen can’t see what’s so funny. It’s actually a little embarrassing that it didn’t cross her mind Sansa had once been in the same situation as her.

“Yeah, but you already had a brother and a sister” she insists in a futile attempt to show that their situations are not, in fact, that similar.

“It doesn’t matter” Sansa says calmly. “Look, having brothers and sisters who are closer to your age is… easier, yes. But this doesn’t mean you’re going to love your much younger siblings any less. It is just a little different. You tend to be more protective of them, a little bit more like a mother than a sister sometimes. But it doesn’t mean that you can’t have an awesome relationship; that you can’t play together, or that they won’t look up to you when they grow older. Quite the opposite. It took me a lot more years to have a good relationship with Robb and Arya than it did with Rickon. Because there was no antagonism with Rickon. I had nothing to prove. I just had to love him and be patient with him”

Shireen nods, but she remains silent. What Sansa says makes a lot of sense. Perhaps it’s not going to be as difficult as she has worried. She might be a little awkward at first, but this is what she’s like with everything in life. She’ll probably get the hang of being a sister eventually. There is a part of her, that childish part that grows smaller but doesn’t die completely as she grows older, that is still quite scared at the prospect of such a big change in her life. But there is another, much bigger part of her, that is starting to look at the future, in the years to come. She could be the cool, older sister, who gets to introduce her brother or sister to awesome books and films and music. She could be a safe, friendly ear when they would be too shy to go talk to their parents. She could be a confidante, a friend, a mentor. Wouldn’t that be awesome?

She presses her hand on her forehead, realizing what a great shift in her emotions a few calm words from Sansa have brought.

“I’m not sure what sort of sister I’m going to be. But you’re going to be a great mum” she says.

Sansa’s cheeks turn poppy-red, and Shireen almost laughs. She’s never had that effect on her before.

//

_“Twins”_ she repeats. This last month she seems to be in a permanent state of incredulous surprise.

“The ultrasound technician detected two heart beats” her father says proudly. Both he and Sansa look a little dazed, but extremely happy. 

She realizes she’s still standing in the foyer like an idiot. She kicks off her sneakers and leaves her schoolbag next to them before she comes in the living room. She had planned to stay longer at Devan’s, but her dad had sent her a message telling her that he and Sansa had news. At this point, she hadn’t known what to expect, other than telling her that they were going to sell all their assets and sail around the world.

“Okay, now we’re definitely going to need a bigger house” Shireen admits in defeat and thankfully her father and Sansa laugh. 

This time, she doesn’t think about it. She hugs Sansa and her father, and when she tells them congratulations, she means it.

“Twins!” Catelyn practically cackles a few days later, when they tell them the news. She draws Sansa into a big hug and even embraces Shireen’s dad briefly.

“Twins!” Ned sobs. He has lost his ability to control his emotions and he’s reduced to a teary, messy blob. Sansa embraces him lovingly, which only makes him more emotional. Shireen tries to pass him the tissue box as discretely as possible. Her eye catches Bran, who is looking at her like he wants to ask her if she’s ok. She nods, and he smiles.

“Twins!” Uncle Robert booms a few days later still, and claps Shireen’s dad on the back with such force, that for a moment Shireen thinks her dad’s knees are going to give way.

“Twins, huh? Two birds with one stone” Myrcella says with a twinkle in her eyes. “Looks like uncle Stannis has very, very efficient sperm” she whisper’s in Shireen’s ear.

_“Wow_ , could you please not talk about my dad’s _sperm?”_ Shireen says in utter shock.

“Why not, it’s out of _scientific_ interest” she giggles. Shireen thinks that her cousin may be the spitting image of her mother, but her mind is all her father’s.

And that makes her think that her siblings are going to be two lucky bastards if genetics play fair. If they get even half of Sansa’s beauty, or even half of her wit and kindness, or even one quarter of her dad’s intelligence and organizational skills, they will be some sort of superhumans who could rule the world. And why not? The world deserves such awesomeness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Efficient" is how Sarah Black described Stannis's sperm, and I couldn't not sneak it in the story! ;D


	18. age fifteen (part two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shireen sees the new house for the first time / She also gets to be a dramatic teenager for a while

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally back! My hiatus had to be extended to a full month, but it couldn't be helped. Sorry for keeping you waiting. I hadn't written anything this entire time, so this chapter is kind of filler, helping me ease myself back in the story. I hope you enjoy it, and thanks for sticking around!

The house her father and Sansa are buying has a killer view to Blackwater Bay, Shireen has to admit. She can actually hear seagulls squawking and waves crash on the shore, only a fifteen minute walk from the house.

“What do you think?” her father asks, a thin smile on his lips that is becoming more and more common since they announced Sansa’s pregnancy.

“It’s like an awesome summer house, but we get to live in it throughout the year” Shireen says and giggles, because that sounds very silly. 

It’s the first time they’ve taken her to see it and she can’t believe this place is real. It reminds her of the dream houses she’s been building in The Sims for ages now, but none of those could have this beautiful view.

Shireen walks around the house slowly, trying to take in all the details. It is smaller than uncle Robert’s house, somehow more compact, but it is still a lot bigger than the apartment they live in, and though the rooms are still empty, they feel cozy and welcoming to her. There are four bedrooms, two bathrooms and an en suite, and a room her father can use as his study. The kitchen is amazing, with plenty of space for Sansa and Shireen to get creative. There is so much space in the house that there is an actual dining room, separate from the kitchen and the living room. In the living room there is a beautiful marble fireplace, and Sansa is already talking about how she’s going to decorate the room around this piece. Shireen is not sure how that works, but she’s reluctant to ask because it’s going to give Sansa the impression she wants a lecture on home design.

She talks excitedly about all the changes she wants to make, which are mostly stylistic and won’t take too much time to get done. In between talking about wallpapers and buying some new furniture she’s sucking on lemon slices like her life depends on it. It has always been a joke that she loves lemons so much, but now she’s pregnant she’s practically devouring them, craving the sourness instead of being disgusted by it. If someone opens her bag at any given moment now, they are bound to find a lemon or two among all the ordinary things such as lipstick, keys, wallet and sunglasses.

Shireen joins her father in the garden, while Sansa is still taking notes inside the house. She sits on the steps of the porch and looks around, smiling happily. She’s always wanted a garden, a proper one with flower beds and trees like this one here. They can plant lavender here, and gardenias, and lemon verbena, to make the whole garden smell like lemons. They can even plant a tiny olive tree and watch it slowly grow, year after year, because they’re never moving to another house, she knows that already.

Her siblings will grow up running on soft, warm grass, listening to the sounds of the sea. They will take their first steps in the spacious living room and their height will be measured on the kitchen wall, and the markings will never be wiped. They will play with the dirt and mess mommy’s plants, and they will inevitably draw on mommy’s lovely wallpapers or manage to spill chocolate milk on one of daddy’s books. When they think of home, this is the only place that will come to mind. And she…

“Dad?”

“Hmm?” he turns to her slowly, no doubt still lost in his own thoughts, which may not be so dissimilar to his daughter’s.

“What are we going to do with the apartment?”

“Sell it probably. We’ll have no need of it once we move here” he says simply.

“Can we… keep it?” she asks hesitantly.

“Keep it? How?” he asks surprised.

“I don’t know, keep it. Not sell it. Maybe rent it or something” she says unsurely.

“What for?” he insists, raising an eyebrow. She understands that her request is a little strange.

“If we keep it… then it could be mine one day” she says steadily.

“Would you like that?” he asks, still sounding surprised.

“Yes; very much” she says simply.

Meera has sometimes teased her that she’s a princess, that she’s only known comfort and wealth. She’s called her spoiled a couple of times, but it has always been in a joking, affectionate way, Shireen is sure of that. Shireen had never thought much about her family’s affluence before becoming friends with Meera and Jojen. All her friends and family are well off, and even though she has been raised by two frugal people, she has never wanted for anything. Shireen thinks now that perhaps Meera is right – how many people can ask their parents not to sell property just because? But she somehow feels she has a right to do this. Her siblings will always be able to come back to the place they grew up, but what about her? The modest house she grew up in with her mother is gone, has been gone ever seen her mother moved to her hometown for good. And her father’s apartment, the place where she has been so happy, is about to be lost to her as well. It is childish, selfish. She should learn not to get so attached to material things and all that. But if they can afford it – and she knows they can – she wants to be able to return to her childhood home one day.

“Renting isn’t such a bad idea” her father says thoughtfully. “We’ll have to consider it I suppose”

She nods. Sansa comes out of the house, and sits next to her on the porch steps. She’s at the end of the first trimester, and she has the tiniest baby bump that makes her look like she’s bloated all the time. She says she can’t wait for her belly to grow bigger, so there can be no mistake that she’s pregnant and not that she has eaten too many pastries.

“I can’t wait to spend my life here” she says to her husband with a happy sigh, and starts nibbling on another slice of lemon.

//

His name is Karl and he steals her heart, even though she had no intention of letting him do so. 

He is in her year, and they take Biology and High Valyrian together. She would never have paid any attention to him if he hadn’t picked up a conversation with her first. Much later on, she will realise that there are very few things more attractive than people’s interest in you. For the moment being, she is not sure why he’s talking with her, but he’s a good conversationalist, so she just goes along with it and enjoys the talk – enjoys the fact she doesn’t panic around guys the same way she would have a year or two ago. Soon, she starts noticing him more around the school, and he starts seeking her out during the breaks. Myrcella thinks it’s really funny, but Shireen is just happy she’s met one more person they have so much in common with, because they do. She likes Karl, and she hopes they can be better friends. When he talks with her, he gives her his full attention, and he seems to genuinely admire her thoughts. She notices that he ditches his friends sometimes to sit with her during lunch, and it pleases her in ways she hadn’t expected. And yet, she still doesn’t dare to think he might want to be more than friends.

It happens at a classmate’s birthday party. Their whole class is there, but he is only interested in her, in her thoughts, in her jokes, in her childhood memories. He stays with her the whole time, and in the end, in a dark corner away from prying eyes, he comes closer than he has ever come before. She trembles, because suddenly she knows what is about to happen and for a moment she wonders if she does want it to happen. But then his lips are on hers, uncertain yet eager, and a strange heat goes through her, and she has never felt more scared and more special in her life. Her lips, her hands, her brain, they all go numb. But her heart is pounding hard against her ribcage.

They are together, but they don’t tell anyone. They don’t want the attention, and Shireen half-expects everything to be over in a few days anyway. There has to be a catch she thinks. There is no way she landed this handsome, sweet and smart boyfriend without even trying. But despite her fears, and despite the fact she is not certain what he sees in her, with her plain looks and poor fashion sense, she feels happier than ever before. She has a _boyfriend_. She can’t say she feels super comfortable around him – in fact she feels a lot less relaxed now they’re not just friends. She almost becomes paralyzed in his presence, thinking of all the ways she might look like an idiot. But he is always so nice, so sweet, so interested in her. She really, really likes him. As the days pass, she thinks she might be in love. And just when she starts feeling comfortable and safe, he breaks things off.

It’s like her life turns from bright technicolor to black and white in just one second. She doesn’t understand why they’re breaking up, and he’s not good at explaining. They’re so compatible, they have so much in common, and anyway he was the one who went after her; seven hells, she wouldn’t have fallen for him if he hadn’t showed so much interest in the first place!

She never thought she would be the girl who gives up on everything just because a boy dumped her – she always found it pathetic. But this is exactly what she does. She feels emotionally drained all the time, too exhausted to concentrate on her homework properly or go out with her friends, or enjoy a movie. Her entire brain activity is wasted on him, on why he broke things with her, why he pursued her in the first place. She turns it over in her head again and again, but it’s pointless – she finds no answers. And that just infuriates her, and as much as she would have liked to keep it all to herself and not let others know what’s going on (because it’s so _humiliating_ ), she can feel the annoyance pouring out of her. She has no patience for anyone; she snaps at Myrcella, she barely talks to Devan and Bran for days, feeling mad at boys in general, and she finds all displays of love between her father and Sansa nauseating. She can finally understand how Myrcella felt the summer before the wedding, and this is not the sort of empathy she ever wanted to gain. She just hates her life so much right now, and she hates it that she cares so much for a stupid boy. But she doesn’t know how not to care.

“Can we talk?” Sansa asks. She had to come to Shireen’s room to ask that question, because Shireen spends most of her time here lately.

“What about?” Shireen says. She’s not exactly hostile, but she’s making it clear that she’s not in the mood for a talk.

“You have been acting really weird these past few weeks. Your father and I are a little concerned. He would have talked to you, but I thought it would be better if I did it, because I think I know what’s going on” Sansa says with one breath, arms crossed over her chest.

“You do?” Shireen says warily. That, she hadn’t expected.

“Is there a boy, Shireen?” Sansa asks, her voice becoming significantly gentler.

For a moment Shireen contemplates saying no, even laughing at the notion _she_ could have a boyfriend, or even a crush. But she knows from Sansa’s look that her own expression has already betrayed her.

“Oh, Shireen” Sansa sighs, and she sits on her messy bed. Shireen sits still on her desk chair, not sure what is going to happen next.

“Did he… did he treat you badly?” Sansa asks, and her tone is very serious and concerned. Shireen suddenly remembers that Sansa’s first boyfriend was Joffrey, and the seven know what’s she’s thinking right now.

“N-no, not really” she says hastily. She really doesn’t want Sansa to think she got involved with a Joffrey type. Sansa looks relieved when she hears that.

“You can tell me what it is, you know. If you want to. I’ve been there too” she says with a tired smile.

Shireen hesitates for a few moments. She doesn’t feel very comfortable talking about personal things. But at the same time, now that she is so close to telling someone, she feels like she’s going to explode if she keeps it all in. And talking to Sansa seems easier than talking to Myrcella, somehow. Sansa is not going to make strange jokes or start plotting an elaborate revenge scheme. Sansa is an adult, but still young enough to not be shocked at the idea of Shireen kissing a boy, probably. And so Shireen tells her, with as few details as possible and with as much of a detached attitude as she can muster. Sansa listens, nodding or shaking her head in some parts, but never speaking, letting Shireen go on.

“So yeah, that’s it” Shireen says. “It just bugs me so much that he couldn’t think of a good reason why he wanted to break up. I thought… I thought we were really great together” she says, and she knows her cheeks are flaming red, but there’s nothing she can do. Despite the awkwardness, she feels better now that she has told Sansa.

“I know it’s impossible to accept it now, but it doesn’t really matter why he wanted to break up, so don’t waste too much time thinking about it” Sansa says simply. “He wanted it, and you can’t force anyone to be with you, no matter how good you think you are together”

“Wow, that makes me feel so much better right now” Shireen says sarcastically. Sansa just smiles.

“Would you like to watch a movie? I think it might help a little. Perhaps not right now, but in the long run” she says calmly.

Shireen checks her watch. They have plenty of time before her father comes home from work – he seems to be trying to put as many work responsibilities out of the way as possible before the babies come.

“Sure” she sighs. She doesn’t really think a movie can help, but she has nothing better to do right now.

Sansa chooses 500 days of Summer, and Shireen soon finds out why. The hero, Tom, is trying to get over his break-up with Summer, and the fact that he thinks they’re perfect for each other doesn’t help much. It is cathartic and painful at the same time to watch someone go through the same emotions as her. And though it’s a little disappointing that they don’t get back together at the end of the movie, she gets a sense of comfort from knowing that Tom has survived the breakup and is starting to live his life again.

Her father returns home close to the end of the movie –it’s hard to tell because the story is not in chronological order.

“So you won’t believe what happened at work today” he starts saying as he kisses the top of Sansa’s head.

“You can tell me in a minute, dear, I’m watching a movie with Shireen” Sansa says with a low voice and pets his hand.

“Yes, but someone was going to make a presentation and-”

“In a minute” Sansa cuts him off as gently as possible. “Oh, look, Shireen, that’s one of my favourite scenes!”

“Sometimes I think you only married me for my daughter” Shireen’s dad says in mock-exasperation.

And Shireen laughs; she laughs loud and hard, because she actually really likes the idea of Sansa finding her more interesting than her father even though she knows it’s not true. And when she’s done, she realizes she hasn’t laughed in days, and she feels better now.

“You won’t tell dad, will you?” she asks Sansa when her father has left the living room. She’s ok with Sansa knowing, but she would be mortified if her father found out she had a boyfriend. It’s just so awkward.

“I’ll just let him know that you are alright and that he doesn’t need to worry about you” Sansa says with an appeasing smile. 

Shireen nods gratefully. She can’t believe there was a time when she thought of Sansa as an irritating intruder in her and her father’s life. Right now, feeling more like herself than she has in days, she doesn’t know what she would do without her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many many thanks to the amazing Sarah Black for all the wonderful comments and suggestions for the second part of this chapter!


	19. age fifteen (part three)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa needs reassurance / They all finally move to the new house

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is now over 50 thousand words long! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting, it would have never gotten this far without you! <3

“I don’t think I like my kids anymore” Sansa announces late one evening. She has just returned home and she hasn’t even taken her coat off yet.

“Er, don’t you think it would be a good idea to wait until you actually meet them?” her husband says confusedly. He and Shireen have been packing the picture frames and other decorations of the living room for the past hour, per Sansa’s request. The moving day is approaching and slowly but steadily they have been stuffing all their belongings in boxes. The rooms look naked to Shireen without all their clutter.

“What? Oh, not those kids, I love my kids. I mean the little monsters at school” she explains grumpily and sinks in the sofa, kicking her shoes off. Shireen’s dad is not very fond of this habit of hers, but Shireen thinks it’s wise of him not to mention it right now.

“Have they been very unruly today?” he asks as he sits next to her on the sofa. She puts her feet up and he starts rubbing them, without her asking him to. This has been a routine for many weeks now. The fact that she doesn’t start purring the moment he starts giving her a massage is a clear indication that she is very distracted, if not upset.

“Not today in particular. But they’re generally… oh, I don’t know. They’re making things hard for no reason. They are spoiled, uninterested and unmotivated. I’ve tried so hard these past few months to get to know them better, to find what things interest them and might get them to be more engaged in the lessons, but I always seem to hit a wall. They just don’t care about _anything!_ ”

Shireen’s heart sinks, and her hands clutch around the bubble wrap she’s holding. She remembers those mean, stupid things she had said to Sansa when she first got her job – how she had insinuated that her students would be mean to her – and now it feels so awful to hear those words come true. Her past bad behavior keeps coming back to haunt her, and she almost feels like she has cast a curse on Sansa.

“You had a bad day, that’s all” Shireen’s dad says soothingly. “It will be better tomorrow”

“I’m having a bad year” Sansa corrects him despodently. “Their lack of interest is not even the worst thing about them; it’s… oh, how can I describe it? It’s like they have this sense of entitlement that is very unappealing and makes them very uncooperative. Like I owe them respect, but they owe me none” she explains as she sinks deeper in the sofa. She looks like she wants to disappear under all the throw pillows, Shireen thinks.

“Surely they can’t be all so terrible?” Stannis says concerned.

“Most of them are like that. It’s no wonder though. Their parents are responsible for that, mostly. They think that because they pay so much money for their children’s education, that they are somehow supposed to get special treatment. And the school sadly plays along with it, because they’re scared that if we don’t coddle the kids enough, the parents are going to take the money and the children somewhere else” Sansa sighs.

“It’s just a bad batch then” her husband says, trying to cheer her up. “You’ll have a better one next year”

“I don’t know; it seems that each new batch is worse than the previous one” Sansa says, obviously reluctant to get her hopes up. “I thought I would miss working, but I can’t wait for my maternity leave to start. Sometimes… sometimes I wonder if I’m just not good enough a teacher-”

“That’s _nonsense_ ” both Shireen and her dad say at once.

“Don’t ever say that again” Stannis says seriously.

“Well sometimes I don’t know what else to think” Sansa murmurs unhappily. “Shireen, are the kids at your school like that?”

Shireen, who has stayed silent for the most part stops wrapping frames in bubble wrap and turns to look at an anxious Sansa. The moment she heard Sansa doubting whether she’s a good teacher, she was overcome with guilt, wishing she could go back in time and prevent herself from saying all those stupid things to her.

Both her dad and Sansa are looking at her curiously now, waiting for her answer.

“Well… some kids in my class are like that, I suppose. There are entitled idiots everywhere. You can be the greatest teacher in the world and some kids will still act like jerks” Shireen says honestly. Her dad frowns, because he doesn’t approve of her using words like “jerk”, but she just shrugs. She’s tried to explain to him time and time again that kids at school use much worse language. She’s never mentioned what sort of language Renly uses in front of her and Myrcella though.

“Look, of course you are a great teacher. Don’t let a bunch of stupid 12-year-olds tell you otherwise” she adds, hoping desperately that Sansa will magically start feeling better. She can’t stand seeing her like that, especially since she feels she’s contributed to her misery in some way.

“You really think so?” Sansa asks. She smiles, but there’s something vulnerable in her smile that makes Shireen feel even worse.

“ _Duh._ I can’t count how many times you’ve helped me with my homework and you have explained stuff to me better than my teacher” she says and it’s absolutely true. “I wish all my teachers were even half as good as you are”

Sansa’s smile is brighter now, and Shireen’s dad is giving his daughter that look he reserves for the times she does something really good.

“How would you feel about some ice-cream?” he asks his wife, who is re-emerging from her pillow nest looking perkier.

“Ice-cream before dinner? Scandalous!” Shireen says, feigning shock.

“I would very much like that” Sansa says with a laugh, and kisses her husband.

They’ve been enjoying their scoops of delicious chocolate chip ice-cream (even Shireen’s dad has given in and is eating some out of solidarity to his wife or something), when Sansa yelps and hastily sets her bowl down.

“What is it?” Shireen’s father asks concerned.

“I think the babies are kicking!” Sansa says breathlessly, her eyes wide with surprise and excitement. “Here” she says, and places his hand on her belly. 

Shireen looks as her father’s expression changes from that of confusion to that of pure bliss. She feels a little like she shouldn’t be in the room, because her father and Sansa are exchanging deep, meaningful looks for many silent moments as they feel their children’s movements. But eventually Sansa turns to her and asks her if she wants to feel the kicks too.

Shireen approaches her carefully. She’s never put her hands on a pregnant woman’s belly, and she certainly hasn’t felt the signs of life of a tiny human on the other side. She gingerly puts a palm on Sansa’s smooth, round stomach. She holds her breath and she waits… but nothing happens.

“Er, I can’t feel it. Are they still moving?” she asks awkwardly.

“No, I’m sorry. They stopped now” Sansa says.

“That’s ok, maybe next time” Shireen says quickly. She’s really not a baby person, but to her surprise she feels quite disappointed right now. Sansa smiles encouragingly and starts eating her ice-cream again, trying to finish it before it melts.

“Oh!” she says a moment later, and once again she has to set her bowl down. Hers and her husband’s eager hands fly to her belly, to the barrier between them and their children.

“Come, Shireen!” Sansa says, and Shireen puts her palm on her belly once again. 

This time she does feel something, and her breath is caught in her throat the moment she feels the tiniest bit of pressure against her hand. It suddenly becomes much more real – the knowledge that Sansa is carrying children, actual human beings in her belly, that in a few months they will be able to hold those real humans in their hands. She instinctively looks at her father. He is obviously speechless, too emotional to properly express himself. At least he’s not crying, like Ned no doubt would do, Shireen thinks, and smiles affectionately at her dad.

“Do they really feel like kicks from the inside? They feel much weaker than actual kicks from here” she says to Sansa.

“No, not really! They feel more like popcorn popping to be honest” she says with a laugh. “Gods, now I’d like some salty popcorn with my ice-cream!” she sighs.

“Perhaps it is the ice-cream that got them going” her husband suggests.

“At least one of them is going to be a sweet-tooth like Sansa then” Shireen says.

Sansa giggles, the drama of her terrible students forgotten thanks to the babies. Shireen’s dad smiles, no doubt happy and relieved to see his wife cheered up and to have felt his children moving. Shireen herself can’t help but smile too, still a little dazed by the sensation of that pressure against her palm. She has seen the ultrasound pictures with her siblings’ heartbeats, and then the ones with the tiny fetuses who are supposed to become humans, with heads and limbs and all. But tonight she believes it more than ever, that her siblings are real, that they are coming.

//

The day of the moving is a Saturday. The company they’ve hired is quick and efficient, and all the boxes and furniture have been loaded in the trucks before Shireen has time to process it. She walks one last time around the empty apartment, reminiscing of all the important or funny things that happened here. Then with a deep breath, and scolding herself for being so sappy and sentimental, she closes the door behind her and runs to the lobby, where her father and Sansa are waiting.

Even though they know they’ve hired professionals and don’t really need much help with anything, Uncle Robert, Myrcella, Renly and Loras invite themselves to the new house to help with the moving. What they actually manage is to get in the way of the movers most of the time. Renly in particular manages to annoy his brother even more than Robert because he keeps complaining that the dust and lint is going to ruin his designer clothes, and the only reason he’s not kicked out of the house is because Loras was kind enough to cook almost a week’s worth of meals for them, so that they will have one less thing to worry about for the first few days.

What with work and school, it takes them over two weeks to put the house in order and make it look a little less like the victim of a whirlwind. Even though Sansa is technically still free to do light housework and isn’t supposed to be bedridden or anything, Shireen takes it upon herself to help her with the general tidying up and putting everything in its place. It’s time consuming and tiring, but all the manual work has proven really effective at taking her mind off Karl, and it’s always fun when they take out of their boxes stuff like Shireen’s arts and crafts from kindergarten and Sansa starts daydreaming about doing arts and crafts with her own kids, or when they accidentally discover her father’s personal and complete collection of Jane Austen novels.

What Shireen hadn’t expected is how much she loves living in the new house. It looks like it’s sprung out of the pages of an interior design magazine, but it’s infinitely better not only because of Sansa’s impeccable taste, but also because it’s gradually gaining that lived-in quality that gives it the warmth and comfort of a home. Everything Sansa has chosen is tasteful yet practical, and Shireen loves how the furniture from the old apartment blends with the new pieces. She can’t choose which room she likes the best now – her new, much bigger bedroom, which even Voldetort’s tank can’t make look crammed; the sunny, spacious kitchen with the lovely wooden surfaces; the living room, with its view to the sea, its hues of light blue, grey and white, and the framed puzzle of The Kiss hanging over the marble fireplace; or the garden, where they’ve already started to plant seeds for flowers to grow in the spring.

Time passes. Sansa’s belly grows, and so does the discomfort. By the time she goes on maternity leave, she’s already complaining about back pains and swollen feet. Shireen and her dad are both reading the maternity books Sansa has already finished. Him because he’s catching up with all the medical advancements that have occurred since the last time he had a child, and her because ever since she felt her siblings moving in Sansa’s belly for the first time, she’s been obsessed with the miracle of birth.

Sometimes she looks at Sansa and she can’t believe it, that she has two humans growing inside of her. That those humans already have nails and eyelashes, that they get hiccups, and that they basically breath underwater. She just can’t wrap her head around it. And then she looks at Sansa’s figure, which apart from the grown belly and breasts hasn’t changed too much, and she can’t help but wonder how two babies are going to come out of her.

More time passes. The house is now baby-proof, even the parts of it where the babies won’t set foot in a number of years, because Shireen’s dad is a tiny bit paranoid. Sansa is trying the most bizarre food combinations and she has taken up knitting. Her mother is teaching her every time she comes to visit. The first few attempts look like shapeless pastel things, but she eventually gets the hang of it, and she starts making little caps and socks for the babies. Shireen finds it a little pointless, since they’ve already bought so much stuff for the babies, and Marya has also knitted some cute pieces. But Sansa says it relaxes her, and when she eventually makes a cute “shell warmer” for Voldetort in bright blue and green thread, Shireen decides that knitting is actually kinda cool.

Even though her father and Sansa grow more and more involved in the pregnancy, they still try to do stuff they won’t have much time for once the babies come. They host a few dinners for friends and family, or they go out to eat once in a while. They go for short walks down at the beach when the weather permits it, and they generally try to enjoy the quiet moments, knowing full well they’re going to miss them soon.

For Shireen, there is a lull. She has adjusted herself in the situation, and because Sansa has been pregnant for so many months now, it’s easy for her to fool herself that this is going to last forever. She sees Sansa’s belly grow, she sees the ultrasounds of the ever-growing babies who frustrate their parents by refusing to position themselves in a way that would reveal their sex. But it all feels like part of the new normal that she’s used to. It’s only when she sees her siblings’ feet and hands clearly outlined as they press up under their mother’s belly skin in an alien-like moment that Shireen realizes that they should get out of there quick, because it’s started getting creepy.


	20. age fifteen (part four)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myrcella and Shireen talk about sex / Sansa has her baby shower

“Think about it” Myrcella says to the ceiling. She’s just fallen with her back on Shireen’s bed, and her body is still bouncing on the mattress a little. “When your parents have more children… that’s when you can’t avoid the thought that they’re _still_ having sex”

That’s the other really good thing about the new house. Shireen’s room is big enough for a small couch that can turn into a bed, and Myrcella can come over for sleepovers instead of Shireen going at her place all the time. It’s great in theory, until she starts saying stuff like that.

“It’s not like I doubt it” Shireen grumbles. She’s not sure she wants to get into that conversation with her cousin. Outside the rain is pounding on the roof of the house. It never snows in King’s Landing, but heavy rain is common during January and February.

“Mum tried to have the sex talk with me during the holidays” Myrcella says and rolls on her stomach on Shireen’s bed.

“Seriously? The birds and the bees? _Now?_ ” Shireen says incredulously and stops checking whether Voldetort has enough water.

“Not that one. The reverse, sort of. Where they tell you what sort of birds and bees you should like. And how not to have birds and bees of your own”

“Was it super awkward?” Shireen says sympathetically and climbs on her bed. Neither of her parents has attempted to have that sort of conversation with her yet, and a part of her suspects they never will. Sometimes she thinks they trust her too much – they think too well of her.

“Yeah, a little. She was a little tipsy, and all I wanted was to eat gingerbread and play Cluedo with Tommen and Uncle Tyrion in the next room, but she wanted to have a girl talk or whatever” Myrcella says and she dives under the bedcovers. Shireen sighs. She’ll probably have to sleep on the couch herself.

“So… what did she say?”

“Basically that all men are bastards and I shouldn’t ever let anyone get their hands on me, like, ever _ever_. Can you tell she’s still a little bitter about the divorce? Or maybe she’s mad that uncle Jaime asked Brienne to marry him, although I don’t see why that’s any of mum’s business”

“Sorry” Shireen says and gets under the covers too. She’s going to regret it if she falls asleep here. Her bed is wide enough for the two of them, but Myrcella tends to kick like a horse in her sleep.

“I don’t know. Sometimes I think I should just sleep with a guy and get over with it, you know? I don’t like this whole “save it for the right guy” thing. What if the right guy comes along when I’m ancient? I’d like to have some fun before that!”

Shireen doesn’t know what to say to that. It still kind of amazes her that this is a legit conversation they can be having now. Wanting to have sex was almost unfathomable a year ago.

“I want a guy with experience though. Someone who knows what he’s doing. No virgins for me, thank you” Myrcella continues.

“Really?” Shireen says, surprised.

“Duh, of course. Wait, you don’t?” Myrcella is looking at her as if she’s grown a second head.

“Not really. I kind of want to be on the same level with the guy” Shireen admits, and her cheeks flush. She’s never talked about those things with anyone before.

“You want to sleep with a virgin?” Myrcella laughs.

“Not necessarily. Just someone who’s not super experienced” Shireen clarifies. Her heart is beating a little faster than usual.

“You’re nuts. You want a guy who doesn’t know what he’s doing?”

“Sure. I won’t know what I’m doing either. We can figure things out together” Shireen says, still quite embarrassed with the whole conversation.

“You’re nuts” Myrcella repeats and yawns. Shireen opens her mouth. She’d like to try and explain to her why this is important to her – to be on the same level, to feel _equal_ with the other person when it comes to something as important and, yes, as scary as sex, but she finds that she doesn’t have the words yet.

“Please don’t do it with that ass Derek from Chemistry” she eventually says.

“Ew, no. Don’t worry, I’ll save my _flower_ for someone _special_ ” Myrcella says teasingly.

“Right, whatever. Please try not to kick the hell out of me tonight at least”

“That I cannot promise” 

//

The baby shower is set for the end of February, and it’s entirely organized by Margaery, Renly and Loras. Sansa allows them to go crazy, which kind of sets Shireen’s father on edge, because he doesn’t trust his younger brother entirely, especially when he’s asked permission to go crazy in _his_ new living room. 

But on the day of the baby shower, it’s proven that he’s worried over nothing at all. Sansa actually cries a little when Margaery finally allows her to enter the living room, which looks completely transformed. Although the day is cold, the pale winter sunlight comes through the windows and falls gently on the numerous vases of white flowers and on the heavy-laden buffet with the cute cupcakes and delicious-looking finger food. The theme of the shower is inspired from Sansa’s favourite children’s books, so there are custom-made banners, cups and even lollipops featuring an elephant called Nelly, who had tied her trunk into a knot to remember something, but had forgotten what was that something, or a shy frog in striped shorts who had fallen in love with a duck.

“This is such a wonderful surprise!” Sansa says as she tries to hug Margaery without her belly getting too much in the way. 

“Well done, Renly” Shireen’s dad says stiffly, because Renly’s triumphant smile is a little too much for him to stomach. “What is this?” He asks then Sansa and he points at a cardboard cut-out of three little wolves with construction helmets.

“Oh, that’s a reversed version of the three little pigs! The three little wolves are running away from the big bad pig, and they’re building these really strong houses to protect themselves, but the pig always finds a way to destroy them, so eventually they build a house out of flowers” Sansa explains happily.

“That doesn’t sound like a viable solution” Shireen’s father observes seriously. Renly and Margaery snort, but Sansa looks at her husband like he’s the most adorable creature in the world.

“What was your favourite children’s book?” Shireen asks her father curiously while Sansa is gushing over the shower’s theme.

“You mean when I was a child? I can’t remember a particular one” her father says, a little surprised by the question.

“What about books you used to read to me then?” she insists, because she really is curious.

“Er, I don’t know. Children’s books are not the most engrossing read for adults” he says apologetically. “Wait…There was that one book. About a beaver that is very lonely at his lake, and starts shouting, wondering if anyone can hear him, and eventually someone shouts back, and the beaver begins a journey to the other side of the lake to find this person who is also lonely, only to discover that it was the echo of his voice. Do you remember that one?”

“Wow, Stannis, is that your idea of a good story? It’s a miracle Shireen is not on antidepressants” Renly says, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, shush. It’s a great story. Because the beaver finds some other animals on his quest to find that lonely person, and he becomes friends with them. So it’s not depressing at all” Shireen says sharply. Sometimes Renly is almost as bad as Uncle Robert.

She forgets she’s mad at him when the guests arrive - Jeyne Poole, the Seaworths, uncle Robert with Myrcella and the entire Stark family (save for Jon), including baby Ned, and Arya who’s back from Harrenhal for a few days.

Naturally the talk revolves around babies, with attention alternating between Sansa’s huge belly, and little Ned who is determined to eat the hydrangeas decorating the coffee table.

“He’s in that phase where he’ll just put all sorts of things in his mouth” Robb’s Jeyne tells Sansa happily.

“Well, some of us never grew out of that phase” Renly whispers to Loras, and Shireen, Myrcella and Bran almost get cramps trying not to laugh out loud.

Having Myrcella, Devan and Bran around makes the whole thing more enjoyable for Shireen, though to be fair, the cake and other sweets help a lot too.

The women are all fawning over Sansa, who is sitting on the comfiest armchair with little Ned on her lap (whenever she’s not running to the bathroom to relieve her bladder, which has been serving as a trampoline for the babies for the past few weeks). Catelyn keeps stroking her daughter’s hair, an expression of extreme pride always present in her features. The two Jeynes and Marya are talking about how wonderful it is to raise children. Margaery is at first listening out of polite interest, but eventually she gets involved in a heated conversation with Robb over which of the two of them knows Theon best. 

Shireen’s dad seems to be engaged in conversation with Davos, and Ned and Robert, who are sitting by the fireplace, seem to be listening to them, although they both look affectionately at Sansa. Shireen notices that Ned keeps patting his pocket, no doubt making sure he’s carrying his handkerchief with him. So far he hasn’t needed it.

Renly and Loras seem to be having a party of their own, slipping alcohol in the minty ice-tea and giggling at something unknown to everyone else. Arya is looking at them with envy, probably thinking that she could do with some alcohol too.

“That’s going to be all of our lives in ten to fifteen years from now” Myrcella tells Shireen sipping at her own, non-alcoholic beverage and looking at their uncles.

“Attending baby showers and getting plastered?” Devan says amusedly.

“Damn right!” Shireen says, stuffing her face with a cupcake.

“Drunk and child-free, that’s the life” Bran jokes.

“You guys don’t want children?” Devan asks surprised.

“When I’m fifty and have traveled around the world twice, then maybe” Bran says with a   
laugh.  
“Same here” Shireen says and steals a glance at Bran. It’s kinda spooky that he said the thing that has been her default answer to that question for some time now.

“I mostly want shoes and an expensive car, to be honest. Hey, don’t look so heartbroken” Myrcella tells Devan.

“I’d like to have children before I’m too old” Devan says quietly, almost apologetically. 

“Hey. I promise we’ll all behave in your kid’s baby shower” Shireen says, and she’s not quite joking. 

//

“This has been so lovely” Sansa says happily from her comfy throne, adding some drops of hot sauce on top of the cupcake she’s about to eat. She has just finished opening her presents, and the room is littered with ribbons and wrapping paper. She looked just like a kid herself when she was opening her presents.

“All the gifts are wonderful! So to thank you, we’re going to gift you something too. Some news” she continues playfully. Shireen’s dad is now standing by her side, having successfully infiltrated the women’s camp. To Shireen it’s obvious that he’s trying to hide that same creepy smile he had when they were announcing the pregnancy to her.

“The babies finally moved around enough for us to see their sex in the last ultrasound we had” Sansa says when she makes sure that everyone is listening, and then pauses for dramatic effect. “We’re having a boy and a girl!”

“See? I told you. Efficient sperm” Myrcella whispers smugly in Shireen’s ear as the room around them erupts in congratulations.

“The flowers! The flowers!” Catelyn keeps repeating happily. Ned is already unfolding his handkerchief.

“What flowers?” Devan asks.

“The ones from the wedding, remember? When Sansa kicked that bowl to find out about any future children. She kicked all flowers out, for the boy, the girl, and the twins” Shireen supplies, desperate to talk to anyone but Myrcella.

“There is something more” Shireen’s dad says, raising his voice to be heard over the conversations that have started.

“We’ve decided on the babies’ names, now that we know what we’re having” Sansa explains. The room goes quiet again, no doubt dying to learn what the names are. Since she already knows, Shireen finds their curiosity a little comical.

“We’ve decided on Minisa Cassana for our girl” Sansa says.

“Oh, sweetheart!” Catelyn exclaims, and gives her daughter a tight hug. “This is so sweet of you” she whispers.

Uncle Robert is looking at Shireen’s dad with an unusually serious expression, nodding as if in approval. And Renly has nothing snarky to say – he just smiles in a melancholic way and gives a small pat on Stannis’s back.

“And what about the boy?” Robb asks, trying to stop his own son from eating his boogers. 

“We’ve decided on Steffon… Eddard” Sansa says, looking at her father meaningfully.

To Shireen’s disappointment, Ned doesn’t burst into loud, dramatic tears. He looks a little crestfallen, like he doesn’t quite get what’s happening.

“Really?” he says finally.

“Yes” Sansa says with a warm, slightly watery smile.

“I thought… perhaps because Robb already gave my name to little Ned…”

“Dad” Sansa says, taking a deep breath to steady her voice “There was no way I wouldn’t give my son your name”

She’s in tears by the time he’s crossed the room to hug her, and for once Ned is the strong one, the one to shed the fewest tears despite his obvious happiness, showering his crying daughter with kisses.

“Don’t worry” Bran tells Shireen, having apparently read her thoughts. “He’s going to bawl his eyes out when the babies are born”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sansa's favourite storybooks are some of the books I enjoyed the most as a child - I couldn't help it, I had to sneak them in the story. :)  
> The babies are coming in the next chapter!


	21. age fifteen (part five)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At last, babies!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention in the last chapter that the amazing Sarah Black helped me a lot with the babies' names.

She’s in the kitchen eating cereal and watching youtube videos in Low Valyrian to see how close the language is to High Valyrian, when her father storms in, looking quite panicked.

“Sansa’s going in labour. We’re going to the hospital” he says, panting.

“Oh. Oh” is all she manages to say before she jumps from her seat, as if electrocuted. She hastily shoves her cereal bowl in the fridge, opting to deal with that later, and runs upstairs to get dressed. It’s only seven o’clock in the evening, but she’s already in her pyjamas. She hates wearing clothes at home.

It’s amazing how much commotion only three people can cause, and in the end it’s mostly Shireen and her dad who run around chasing their tales, trying to figure out what they need. Sansa is waiting for them in the kitchen, her hospital bag in her hand.

By the time they’ve reached the hospital everyone has already been informed. The Starks are on their way from Winterfell, and uncle Robert is going to arrive any minute now. Renly and Loras are sick with the flu and Myrcella is on an impromptu visit to Lannisport.

At first it’s kind of fun and exciting. They’re sitting in Sansa’s room, waiting for the early labour to run its course and for Sansa’s cervix to dilate. So far the contractions are not too painful. Margaery, who’s sitting next to her best friend until Catelyn arrives and overtakes everything with her mother’s instinct, cheerfully tells Sansa that she’ll be back to wearing skinny jeans before she knows it. Sansa laughs a little, no doubt trying to diffuse some of her own nervousness, but Shireen’s dad looks at Margaery like she’s come from a different planet.

Things are still quiet by the time Uncle Robert arrives to give his goddaughter an encouraging and sloppy kiss on the forehead.

“Look at her, Stannis! I remember her being a baby… and now she’s having babies of her own!” he says, his voice already thick with emotion. He’s brandishing a newspaper in his hands, saying that he’s done the same thing for all his children – bought a paper on the day of their birth, so that they know what the world was like on that day. 

They wait, with Robert reminiscing over the births of Tommen and Myrcella. Shireen wonders if he even remembers that Joffrey is also his son. Nurses come and go, checking how Sansa is doing and if the early labour is proceeding smoothly. The obstetrician made his appearance when they first arrived in the hospital and is now waiting somewhere until the actual labour starts. Sansa has opted for a natural birth, as everything seems to be in order and the babies seem to be very healthy.

“We were waiting for you to start the party!” Uncle Robert booms when Ned and Catelyn arrive, with Bran, Rickon and Robb at their heel. Sansa tries to smile, but she winces instead, because the contractions are gradually getting more painful.

Catelyn runs to Sansa, already asking her if she has everything she needs, if they need to call the nurses about anything, as she straightens the bedcovers and tucks tendrils of red hair behind her daughter’s ears.

“I really do think the babies were waiting for you to come” she says to her parents with a shaky smile. And just like Bran had predicted, Ned is already a little teary.

It’s eight by the time Sansa goes into actual labour and they are all shooed out of the room. Shireen’s father and Catelyn are the only ones staying behind.

The waiting area is annoyingly far from Sansa’s room, and they all complain a little about it, but there’s not much that can be done. Uncle Robert buys coffee for himself, Ned, Robb and Margaery, and some donuts for Shireen, Bran and Rickon. They keep looking up every time they see someone approaching, even though they know it’s too early for anything to have actually happened.

Time passes excruciatingly slowly. Uncle Robert makes constant trips to the gift shops, buying more flowers, balloons and plush toys each time. He can’t shut up, talking about everything and nothing, and the rest of them listen to him because they sadly have nothing better to do. Shireen hadn’t realized before how difficult it is to kill time when you’re waiting for something really big to happen.

Two hours pass. Catelyn comes out at some point to let them know that Sansa is still in labour, that things are going a little slow but there’s nothing out of the ordinary.

By eleven Sansa has been in labour for three hours, six if you count the early labour, and Shireen realizes that she’s actually scared. She never thought about it all these months – that something could go terribly wrong, something could come up that the doctors could not have predicted. People around her are acting normal – Rickon is sleeping on his chair; Margaery is texting Renly and Loras, giving them updates. Ned and Uncle Robert are talking about work, having run out of other things to talk about. Bran next to her is reading the book he was clever enough to bring with him. No one seems worried. At all. And it’s so strange. They should be biting their nails in agony. She’s read the books – she knows a million things could go wrong. Something could happen to Sansa. Something could happen to the babies. Something could happen to all three of them. She suddenly thinks of her father – how he would collapse if something happened to their family. He’d gotten so scared when Shireen had gotten seriously ill as a baby – her mother had given him that at least. So what if something happens to the babies later? What if they also get sick the way Shireen did? And what if they’re not as lucky as her? And she thinks of her mother, how much she now knows she had struggled with postpartum depression, how long it took her to recover. What if Sansa went through that too? What if she was about to become sad over something that was supposed to make her so happy?

“Shireen, are you alright?” Ned says, pulling her out of her horrible thoughts.

“I’m fine” she says automatically, not wanting to alarm anyone, but still feeling scared.

“You’re breathing very heavily and you look a little pale. Are you sure you’re ok?” Ned insists. It’s strange to see him look at someone in the same fatherly way he reserves for his children.

“I’m just a little nervous” Shireen admits, severely downplaying her panic attack.

Ned smiles a small, gentle smile. He has creases around his eyes that somehow make his gaze softer.

“Bran, why don’t you and Shireen go out to get some air?” Ned says to his son. Bran looks at Shireen curiously. He doesn’t say anything, but he folds the corner of the page he’s reading and he gets up.

“What’s up with you? You look like death” he says when they’re outside; his fingers are scratching the plastic label wrapped around the bottle of cold coke he got from a vending machine, like the addict he is.

“Thanks a lot” Shireen murmurs. She’s not really in the mood for banter right now.

“Here, have this. It will make you feel better” Bran says and gives her the coke.

“Coca cola works only if you’re carsick or if you have diarrhea. Neither of which is the case here” she points out. She doesn’t take the bottle

“That’s nonsense. Coke cures everything” Bran says with conviction and opens the bottle for her. She takes a sip to humor him, more carbon dioxide that actual liquid, and she actually feels her stomach settle by a fraction.

“Seriously, what’s wrong?” he asks again, burying his fists deep in his jacket pockets. Sometimes March is worse than any winter month in King’s Landing.

“I’m just having some morbid thoughts” Shireen says, looking at the sky. The night of the spring equinox is clear, but the light pollution prevents them from seeing the stars. She shivers.

“Are you one of those people who freak out with hospitals?” he asks, stealing a sip of coke from her bottle.

“Bran, last time I was in a hospital in the middle of the night, you were fighting for your life on an operating table” she says flatly.

He looks up at her, surprised – almost shocked perhaps. She is surprised too. Though they’ve grown closer in the last couple of years, the night of his near-fatal accident is not something they’ve ever discussed. She hadn’t meant to sound so grave. She hadn’t been that scared that night three years ago. But her friendship with Bran has made her feel scared every time she looks back to it, thinking of what she could have lost then.

“It’s not like that now. We’re here for something good” he says awkwardly. He hesitates for a moment, but then he wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her close to him. The move is not calculated well, so they end up bonking their heads together, and the coke makes Shireen burp out of surprise, which makes both of them laugh.

She breathes deeply, her lungs filling with the cold air of early spring. She thinks she feels a little better now, and she doesn’t know if it’s the coke, the clear air or Bran that helped.

//

Steffon Eddard Baratheon is born on March 21, at 23:57. Minisa Cassana Baratheon is born on March 22, at 00:05. They weigh around 3.200 kilograms each, and are completely healthy.

When Shireen enters the room everyone is gathered around Sansa’s bed, making a poor job of giving her space to breathe. She looks incredibly happy, but also exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes, and her sweaty hair plastered on her head. There’s something in her eyes though, and in the line of her mouth, that makes Shireen think that she’s never seen her resemble Catelyn more than she does right now.

She’s holding one of the babies – the girl, judging by the pink cap on her tiny head. Shireen’s dad is holding the boy, sitting on the chair closest to Sansa’s bed. He looks tired too, but the way he looks at the tiny creature in his arms leaves no doubt about his happiness. She feels her heart flutter in her chest, because somehow she knows he must have looked at her the same way when she was born – like she was his entire world – and it’s too much, and makes her stupidly think that she needs to be better, for him, for her mother, for the people who love her.

Catelyn is whispering soft words to her daughter and granddaughter, so loving, so motherly, so present. Uncle Robert is floating around the room like a charmless ballerina, taking pictures of everyone, and giving condolences to Shireen’s dad about his favourite pub burning down or something. Margaery kind of tries to hurriedly drown his voice out, noting that the babies will be born under different zodiac signs. Shireen snorts at that, because she knows precisely what her father’s opinion on astrology is. But her father is not paying attention to any of that, busy as he is transferring his newborn son from his arms in the arms of his grandfather.

“Eddard, meet Eddard”

Ned is crying quietly, silent sobs making his body shake and fat tears running down his happy, slightly lined face. He kisses the head of the baby ever so lightly, and to Shireen he resembles a gentle giant.

From somewhere she can hear the voices of Renly, Loras and Arya giving congratulations and sending wishes to all of them. Margaery has them in a group call on skype so that they can see the babies too. Renly is complaining that her phone’s angle is all wrong and they can’t see a thing.

Shireen is standing in the middle of it all, trying to not get in anyone’s way. She’s moving at a glacial pace, trying to mask her uncertainty. It’s like they have been slowly pushing a glass of water across the surface of a table for months, and Shireen has been watching and she has known all along that if they kept pushing, the glass would eventually fall over. And now the glass has fallen over, and she is still trying to reconcile herself with that fact. She’s not sure where her place is right now. She wants to get closer and see her brother and sister, but doesn’t want to assume that her interest in the babies and Sansa is more important than that of Ned and Catelyn’s, or of her father’s, or even Uncle Robert’s. 

“Shireen, do you want to hold your sister?” Sansa asks then. She sounds hoarse, tired, calm, certain. To Shireen, she now has the voice of a mother.

She almost wants to say no – the thought of holding something as fragile as a newborn baby is terrifying. But Sansa, and Catelyn too, are looking at her encouragingly, and so she forces herself to approach Sansa’s bed. The morbid thoughts come to her again –that she could drop the baby, that one abrupt move could crush her still soft scull, but she forces herself not to think about such awful things as Catelyn shows her how to position her arms and her torso, and then Sansa gently puts her little sister in her arms.

Shireen’s breath is caught in her throat when she feels the baby’s weight in her arms. Her sister is a tiny thing, heavier than Voldetort, but lighter than a schoolbag. She is nothing like the plump newborns in the movies, with their smooth pink skin and thick sock of blond hair. But Shireen gets it. Her sister has been pickling in amniotic fluid for months, and then she literally had to squeeze herself out of a tight spot. Her face is red and purple, her skin wrinkly like an old woman’s. Her features are squished close together. Right now she doesn’t resemble anyone. A pug maybe, if Shireen has to pick something. But then Minisa opens her eyes, and it’s the strangest mix of blue, grey and purple, and though Shireen knows there’s no way her sister can make out shapes or focus on things, she feels like her gaze is piercing through her, making her heart beat faster.

The words spill out in an effortless whisper, the easiest words she has ever said.

“I love you”

Someone gives her a chair to sit – she doesn’t know who, because she only has eyes for her sister. She sits, and then Ned approaches her, asking her if she wants to hold her brother too. Catelyn helps her reposition Minisa in her arms so that she can hold Steffon too, and then she’s holding both of them, and her heart is beating so fast that she thinks it’s going to jump out of her ribcage. But the babies are remarkably calm, hardly taking notice of all the people around them and the different pairs of arms that have held them.

Steffon looks wrinkly too, with pink and purple splotches on his face. But under the blue cap he’s wearing, she can see a tuft of raven-black hair. He’s gotten his –their- father’s colours it seems. He stirs a little in her arms, and his tiny hand finds its way out of the folds of his blanket. He flexes his tiny, delicate fingers as if he’s reaching for something, and Shireen almost wishes she wasn’t holding Minisa too, so that she could hold his little hand in hers. A finger approaches Steffon’s hand, and she would know those long, steady fingers anywhere – her –their- father’s. Steffon’s fingers grab around his father’s index as best as they can. He opens his eyes, two dark galaxies, and Shireen looks up, to the dark sea of her father’s eyes. In this moment she feels that her education and intelligence have failed her, because she finds it impossible to describe the joy and unconditional love mixed the deep blue.

Later, when her arms are empty and her heart full, and she feels exhausted by the sheer range of emotions she went through in one night, she looks at her father and Sansa under lids that fight hard to stay open. He’s sitting next to her on the bed, his arm protectively wrapped around her shoulders. She’s holding both the babies, and her lips are moving, uttering quiet words of love and devotion. Her husband kisses the top of her head, holding her close, holding them all close.

Shireen remembers that it was in another ward of this same hospital when she first thought of her father and Sansa as puzzle pieces – those two pieces that didn’t look it, but were a perfect fit. She had been right about that of course; but back then she had failed to see that there was still something missing. But she knows now that her brother and sister are the missing pieces, the pieces she didn’t know they needed, which complete a picture she had not imagined that existed, but is eternally grateful that it does.


	22. age sixteen (part one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selyse has something to confess / Shireen goes back home

“Steffon is _such_ a sweetheart. He can recognize my voice now, and he turns to me when I talk to him. But he gets a little confused because he can’t touch me through the computer screen, silly thing. Minisa gets a little annoyed actually, she tries to bang the screen with her little fists, but she can’t reach it. We’re starting to worry she’s going to be like Arya when she grows up. But she’s so smart! She’s already trying to imitate the sounds we’re making when we talk, it’s so adorable” Shireen says as she straightens the pristine white tablecloth.

It’s August and she’s still in Brightwater with her mother. She’s just gotten off skype with her father, Sansa and the babies, and as it often happens, she can’t help but talk about what the babies did on camera.

Her mother is chopping cucumbers for a salad, and it seems to Shireen that the blade of the knife is hitting a little harder against the cutting board than it needs to.

“Do you want help with that?” she asks when one of the small cucumbers rolls off the kitchen counter and falls to the floor because her mum jerked her arm too abruptly.

“No. Get the plates for the table” her mother replies curtly and continues chopping cucumbers with a vengeance.

“Their fingers are so puffy, it’s amazing. I had never realized how much babies’ fingers resemble fresh, puffy croissants. They’re so adorable. Steffon has the puffiest fingers of the two. I keep telling him that I’m going to eat them” Shireen goes on, laughing to herself.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t give you a brother or sister” her mother says abruptly.

“What?” Shireen says dumbly.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t give you a brother or sister” her mum repeats, her brows knitted, her mouth a straight line. “You seem to enjoy being a sister to the babies, and I’m sorry I couldn’t give you that. I had thought about it, but there never was a good time to do it. Never the right person either, I suppose. And now it’s not possible anymore” she says in one breath. She doesn’t waste time looking at Shireen. She dumps the cucumbers in the salad bowl with the lettuce and she starts stirring the food on the stove vigorously.

Shireen is speechless, because there are too many things going through her head right now. She realizes a little too late that she has perhaps been talking too much about the babies. All her life she has deliberately avoided talking to her parents about how she spends the other half of her life, and she has been very successful. But with the babies it has been impossible to do that. They’ve changed their lives so much, and they’ve given her so much joy already, and they’ve made her feel so much love, that it’s impossible not to talk about it. But she hadn’t thought it would bother her mother in this way.

She had never wondered whether her parents would have liked to have more children, together or with other partners. Perhaps that is the arrogance and self-absorption of only-children – they always assume they are enough. And even after her father and Sansa decided to have their own children, it never crossed her mind that her mother might have at some point hoped to do the same thing, and that she might have been disappointed when the moment came that this hope had to die.

Her mother is rubbing the kitchen counter with force, her lips still in a thin line. Perhaps it’s not just the babies; perhaps she’s also nervous about the dinner. She has been nice about the whole thing with the babies, never really showing any dismay when Shireen would mention them, frequently mentioning that she hopes they grow up to be healthy children.

Shireen continues setting plates and silverware on the table, trying to think of what to say to her mother. She doesn’t want to say “It’s ok you didn’t give me a brother or sister”. To her that implies that it’s actually not ok, but she “forgives” her mother about it, and that’s not at all how she feels.

“I like being a sister to Steffon and Minisa” she says finally. “But I also really like it that I still get to be _your_ only child”

Her mother turns to look at her. Her eyes are strange – like she can’t comprehend what her daughter is saying to her. But then her shoulders slump a little, and the tension leaves her thin lips, and they curl up in an uncommonly sweet smile.

“Shireen…” she sighs, but then the bell rings.

“I guess your beau is here” Shireen says and goes to answer the door.

“So you had to straighten your lower jaw and widen your upper jaw? Fascinating! Your orthodontist must have done a great job because I can’t tell the difference!” Milton says excitedly, having for a moment forgotten his chicken and mushrooms.

“Well thank you! It took ages, but it had to be done” Shireen says proudly. Her teeth have given her so much trouble that it always feels good to get compliments on them. 

“So have you always wanted to become a dentist?” she asks Milton. She doesn’t really care, but someone has to keep the conversation going and she doesn’t want to make the poor man feel awkward. Her mother seems to be too nervous to function properly, which Shireen would have found hilarious had it not been for the conversation they were having before Milton arrived.

Milton has been her mother’s boyfriend for a few months now, but it’s the first time Shireen meets him. He’s the most average guy she has ever met, which by itself is interesting in a roundabout way. He’s in his early fifties, but he still has all his hair and it’s barely peppered with any grey. He’s not too tall, he’s not too thin or too fat, he’s just an average middle-aged guy who wears glasses and has a mustache. He’s a dentist, which means that there must be a sadistic side to him, but he generally seems like a decent guy. He’s a lot more cheerful than her mum, and he seems to have a sense of optimism about things that she doesn’t share. He doesn’t seem to be much like any of her previous partners, but Shireen has by now learned that the people you fit with are not always the people who look like you’d fit with.

She finds it easy to hold a conversation with him, because he might be a little boring, but at least he’s pleasant and obviously very eager to make a good impression on her. And as the dinner progresses and her mother relaxes a little, it becomes obvious to Shireen that she is happy with him, that there is a precious connection there.

“Thank you for tonight, Shireen. I really appreciate that you tried to get to know Milton” her mother says later, when Milton has left and they are cleaning the table.

Shireen just smiles at her, biting her tongue. If there is anyone her mother needs to thank, that’s her father and Sansa. She really doesn’t think she would have been able to be so nice to Milton if she didn’t have the previous experience of her father introducing Sansa into their lives. She wouldn’t have known how important it is to the new boyfriend or girlfriend to make a good impression on the kid, and how important it is to the parent as well to know that some sort of bond can be forged in time. Without Sansa, her view on things would still be extremely limited, but this is not something she can tell her mother.

“He’s alright” she finally says. Her mother smiles in agreement.

//

She gets stupidly sentimental when her father pulls in their driveway and she sees the house again after all this time. It’s been their home for less than a year now, but there already so many memories tied to this place.

“Where’s Sansa? And Minnie and Stanny?” she asks her dad when they get in the house.

“In the garden, I think. She said she wanted the babies to enjoy the sunshine. And please call your siblings by their proper names” her father says sternly. 

“Oh, come on. If Ned and Uncle Robert get to call them that, then I can too” she retorts. She’s already dumped her suitcase in the hallway and is heading to the garden.

“There you are!” she says cheerfully when she gets out in the garden. “Where are the – Oh gods, you had an outdoors pen built for Voldetort? That’s fantastic!” she says, for a moment distracted by the thoughtful gesture. She hesitates – she wants to go see how her turtle is doing, because despite his indifference to her, she’s really fond of him, but she decides that the babies are more important.

“A belated birthday present. Welcome back home, Shireen” Sansa says with a soft laugh. She’s lying prostrate on a blanket on the grass with the babies next to her, with their favourite plush toys strewn around them.

“We’re being little seals. Strengthening our back and our arms to be ready for crawling” Sansa explains. Shireen sits next to them on the grass, enjoying the familiar earthy smell.

“They seem to like it out here” she says.   
Steffon and Minisa turn to her when they hear her voice. Minisa squeals, the most delightful sound Shireen has ever heard, and Steffon actually tries to reach her. She wants to join Minisa in her squeals. Seeing them in person is so different from seeing them on a computer screen. They’ve grown a lot in the two months she’s been away. Steffon has thick black hair now, and the same sea-blue eyes as Shireen and their father, while Minisa’s head is now covered with silky, fiery red hair. Her eyes have long lost the dark purple hue they had when she was a newborn, clearing and turning into a bright blue; so far, she is the spitting image of her mother and grandmother. Shireen kisses the heads of her siblings and inhales the familiar smell of talcum powder, hypoallergenic detergent and that particular scent that she can only describe as “baby”.

“Will you hold Steffon while I feed Minisa? It’s time for their dinner” Sansa says as she casually unbuttons her shirt. She’s rolled to her side and is gently bringing her daughter closer to her exposed breast. Minnie’s mouth is already forming a perfect “o”. Shireen barely notices. It took her some time at first to get used to it, but now it seems like the most natural thing in the world. Sansa sometimes feeds the babies together, mostly when she needs both of them to stop crying, but generally she prefers feeding them separately, so that she can spend some one-on-one time with them.

“Gods, you’ve gotten heavier” Shireen says with a laugh when she lifts Steffon from the blanket. He’s not offended at all, too busy making bubbles with his spit and wiggling his puffy fingers at her.

“He’s just the right weigh for his age” her father says, bringing one of the wicker chairs from the porch to sit on.

“It was a joke dad, I didn’t call Stanny fat” she says, stroking her brother’s ruddy cheeks. His face is round and plump, and she wonders if we will come to look anything like their father, all sharp edges and clear lines.

“For the last time, will you call him-”

“No” she says simply, cutting him off. “So? Did you miss me terribly? Did you feel desperate without my precious help?” she says cheekily. She almost regrets talking, because she would be content watching Sansa feeding Minnie, that sweet smile on her face and one arm wrapped protectively around her daughter.

“We certainly noticed your absence” her father supplies, obviously still salty over the pet names.

“The babies are a handful. But it’s getting a little easier as they grow. I’m not so afraid of breaking them anymore” Sansa says with a soft laugh.

Shireen nods. It had been a surprise to her when they first came back home from the hospital and Sansa was freaking out whenever she needed to change diapers or bathe the babies. She thought she was the only one with the crazy thoughts, and from the way Sansa was holding the babies in the hospital, she couldn’t have guessed she was nervous or scared. But it turned out that bath time seemed a lot scarier to her, because it required some skillful maneuvering, and the babies really looked so tiny and fragile. So Shireen’s dad had done a lot of the bathing and nappy changing for the first few days until Sansa got over her worries, showing his wife what to do and encouraging her.

For Shireen, it was a revelation to watch her father being a father to infants. In her eyes he’s always been a little stiff, a little uninviting to everyone except a select few, always looking out of place in most situations. But he was so confident and so gentle with the babies – and it was this indescribable gentility of his that amazed her.

“You know, it’s a little strange. I’ve been a teacher for just a few years, but I got so used to the idea that I am the one who holds knowledge and passes it down to others. But it’s so different now. Our children are the teachers. And we have to listen to them very carefully, and learn” Sansa says sagely.

Shireen nods again. She’s not a mother, but what Sansa says sounds correct and even beautiful in a way. Stanny gurgles happily in her arms and his chubby, croissant-like fingers try to grab at the strands of hair that have escaped her loose braid. Her peripheral vision catches her father looking at her almost jealously, and she suppresses her laughter. Another thing she has learned about him is that he doesn’t love sharing his children with anyone.

“Want to hold Stanny?” she says politely.

“Yes, I would very much like to hold _Steffon_ ” her father says pointedly as she carefully hands her brother to him.

She lies on her back on the blanket, feeling lazy and content, but she doesn’t close her eyes. She’s watching Sansa feed a greedy Minisa. Her smile is soft and loving as always, but there’s this secret quality to it that turns it into the smile of a mother. Her father is kissing Steffon’s little hands, which are trying to grab at his nose. The light is soft, the day is still warm, and there is this tranquility, this happiness that lives in comfortable silence, and Shireen realizes what it really was that she missed from home – an atmosphere, or rather a feeling, that could not be conveyed or created through hasty calls and computer screens.

And then Minisa throws up her milk instead of burping, and Steffon starts crying because a butterfly dared to approach him. And Shireen almost laughs, because this is home too, and she has missed it as well.


	23. age sixteen (part two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shireen catches Sansa red-handed / Bran discovers the power of compliments

“No, don’t look at mummy now. Look here, darling”

Shireen mutes the music video she’s been watching and strains her ears to hear better. Is Sansa talking to the babies? The house is silent, save for Sansa’s mostly incoherent voice. Her father is not home yet. She hears more incoherent sounds, and she decides to take a break from her homework and go watch Sansa talk to the babies. 

“Da-da” Sansa is saying firmly when Shireen pops her head in the room.

“Goo” Steffon replies, looking at her seriously.

“Yes, love, but look here” Sansa says patiently. Her finger taps on the family picture that hangs on one of the walls of the nursery. “Da-da” she says again in a clear voice, as her nail taps on her husband’s face.

_“Wow”_ Shireen says. Sansa turns to her with a start. Stanny seems to be a little surprised by the sudden motion, but miraculously decides not to cry.

“I never thought you capable of such deception” Shireen says in mock-disappointment. “Whatever is your husband going to say about this?”

“Please don’t tell your father. I know it seems hilarious to you, but please don’t say anything” Sansa says quickly. Two pink spots have appeared on her cheeks and she looks so guilty that Shireen can hardly suppress her laughter. 

“I just thought your father would be really happy if the babies called his name first.” Sansa explains reluctantly. “He’s been so amazing all these months, and I…”

“You’re _nuts._ You’ve been amazing too. Why shouldn’t they call your name first?” Shireen asks. Sansa’s tendency to admire others more than herself has always baffled Shireen, given that Sansa is most of the times better than everyone else – _in everything._

“Please. It’s just something that I want” Sansa insists. She still looks a little embarrassed, but not as guilty as before.

“Fine. But don’t think I won’t be laughing on the inside every time you pretend to try and get the babies to say “ma-ma” in front of dad” Shireen warns her, still very amused with the situation.

“As long as it’s on the inside” Sansa says with a conspiratorial smile.

“Do you want me to brainwash Minnie while you’re dealing with Stanny?” Shireen jokes as she approaches Minisa’s cot.

“It’s not brainwashing! It’s… just a nudge to a certain direction” Sansa says, defensively. She turns back to the picture, pointing to Steffon his father.

“You know, it would be funny if dad was secretly doing the opposite thing, trying to get the babies to say “mama” first” Shireen says amusedly as she takes Minnie in her arms.

“You think?” Sansa says, turning to her again. She looks like they just told her that her crush likes her back. “I mean, he is so sweet, I could imagine him doing that” she adds thoughtfully.

“You guys are unbelievable” Shireen says, rolling her eyes. Minnie starts crying at that moment, having come to the horrible realization that there are people in the room who are not giving her all of their attention.

_“Cry, baby, cry”_ Shireen sings to her in a low voice, rocking her little body in her arms. _“Make your mother sigh. She’s old enough to know better, so cry, baby, cry”_

“Is that supposed to be reverse psychology?” Sansa whispers amusedly.

“Yep. And it totally works” Shireen says confidently.

Indeed, Minnie stops crying before Shireen reaches the final verse.

//

She tosses the comic book she’s been skimming through on the bed, and it lands next to him. He doesn’t move. Her eyes scan the messy room, looking for things to distract her. She’s a little bored, but it’s not a bad thing. Lately she’s come to view boredom as a kind of luxury. The glint of the full body mirror on the inside of the open door of his closet catches her eye. She gets up from her chair and goes to stand in front of it, examining her reflection.

It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon in late October and she’s in Bran’s room in Winterfell. She sometimes takes the bus and comes to spend the day here, away from the crying and general chaos of the house. She hasn’t asked herself why she comes all the way to Winterfell instead of going to Myrcella’s or Devan’s house, just a few minutes’ ride with a bike from her house. Bran hasn’t asked her either.

“I have so much white hair already!” she groans as her fingers run through her hair. The white is easy to spot, mixed as it is in the mousy brown. She knows this is something she has inherited from her father, who started greying very early in his life, and she makes a mental note to complain to him about it.

“You have white hair?” Bran asks without taking his headphones off. He’s been listening to a podcast, while watching a walk-through of a game on YouTube, while music is playing on the stereo. He’s finally discovered Pink Floyd, to his father’s delight.

“You haven’t noticed? You’re such a guy!” Shireen laughs. “Look” she says when she goes near his bed, where he’s sprawling. She stoops to let him see better. He takes his headphones off out of politeness. 

“Huh. You have quite a lot” he says. His nails graze against her temple as he tries to catch a white hair. She suddenly doesn’t know why she thought he had to see for himself.  
“It makes me look like a witch” she complains and draws herself up again, stepping back. Bran’s arm falls to his side.

“I like your witch hair!” he says amusedly and puts his headphones back on.

“You do?” she says in surprise. Compliments from him are a relatively new thing. The headphones slip back around his neck.

“Of course I do” he says, and then: “I like everything about you”

He sounds a little breathless, his words a little rushed, eager to come out of his mouth before he changes his mind.

“You do” she says. There is no room for interpretation – somehow, she knows what he means.

Her feet carry her back to the bed, propelled by the same rare courage that had made her drag him to the dancefloor two summers ago. Her knees sink in the mattress and she temporarily loses her balance as she leans closer to him, but his hands grip her elbows and her palms set her gravity center straight as she sets them firmly on the duvet. He’s smiling a confident smile, the kind that’s just for show.

She doesn’t know why she can see it all so clear, his nervousness and his hopes, all present in his eyes, when she had found it so hard to figure him out in the past.

She comes closer, and she can feel his breath caressing her face, warm and cloyingly sweet from the coke he’s been drinking.

It had never crossed her mind that this could ever happen, that he could feel this way about her, or that she could also feel this way about him. She supposes that at least now, she can make sense of a couple of things – she can make sense of the fact that they’ve never really discussed their romantic lives, or that they’ve rarely touched on purpose, or that they never meet up with Jojen and Meera when she comes to visit him in Winterfell nowadays.

And though the idea is only a few seconds old in her mind, it doesn’t surprise her or confuse her. It’s another puzzle, she instinctively thinks. She didn’t know the picture existed, or that it could be formed by her. She didn’t know she had the pieces for it, but the pieces have been falling into place slowly, quietly and effortlessly anyway. It feels as if the last few years have been leading up to this. All the teasing and banter, the quiet understanding, the long skype sessions in the summer, the inside jokes, it has all been leading to this- this feeling that suddenly makes her heart flutter in her chest even though she feels perfectly calm.

Their lips meet with the same inevitability that magnets meet, and the flesh fits seamlessly. His lips are a little dry, but warm, and she can feel his excited breath trapped behind them, or maybe that’s just his heart, ready to jump out of his mouth. She feels him return the pressure as his hands go to her face, and a sweet haze fills her mind when his fingers touch her skin again. She has been kissed before, but not like this – she feels at once lost and in control. Her heart is singing and her blood is rushing through her veins, but her limbs don’t go numb the way they used to in the past. They hold her in place, close to him, as their heads push back and forth and their mouths try to devour each other. It’s messy and clumsy, but she doesn’t care. She feels curious, and adventurous and so unexpectedly happy.

They break the kiss to get some air, exhaling on each other’s faces – neither of them has yet mastered the art of kissing while breathing. She pulls her head back, to take a better look at him. His chest is rising and falling and he is smiling again, a smile wider and brighter than before. It makes her own lips part in a grin. She likes everything about him too.

The afternoon light coming through the window is weak and fading, but as Bran moves his head, the sunrays hit his eyes, and for a moment the brown-green irises turn to gold.

//

“This is so crazy. But so awesome. But crazy” he says and a silly giggle escapes his lips.

“Mostly awesome” she says, and she can’t help it, she giggles too.

He pulls her in for another kiss and she tilts her head to meet his eager lips. They’ve already had a million kisses, but the novelty has not worn off yet. Right now, sitting in his father’s car, she doesn’t think it will ever do.

She purrs contentedly into the kiss and she can practically feel his lips stretching into a smile even while he kisses her. He is right, this is absolutely crazy. It’s crazy how wonderful it is, and it’s crazy that they didn’t figure it out earlier, and it’s also crazy how much sense this makes to her –and to him too, she knows- right now.

“Ok, I should go” she says breathlessly, trying to pull herself together. His hands have made a complete mess of her hair.

“Nooo” he says, trying to pull her back in a hug.

“Dude, seriously. What if my dad or Sansa decide to take some air in the porch? They’ll have a prime view of the car” she reminds him. He pulls back, defeated. He takes a long look at her, the back of his head resting on the window. He’s still smiling. Smiles have always come easy to him, but they were usually secret, encrypted things that she didn’t know how to decode. The way he smiles now is so much more beautiful, because she knows what it means, and he finally knows too.

“Thanks for the ride” she says awkwardly and opens the door. He drove her all the way to King’s Landing, even though she insisted that he shouldn’t, just because he wanted to spend that extra hour with her. They spent that time listening to music and arguing about which Harry Potter film is the best, just like they would have done if they were still just friends.

“Any time” he says, also a little awkward. It puts her at ease to see that he doesn’t have it all figured out, because she hasn’t either. “So…” he starts, when she’s already out of the car. His fingers drum on the steering wheel nervously. “Wanna be together?”

The question catches her off-guard, and a laugh almost escapes her lips. Do people still ask that sort of stuff? Isn’t it something that stops after primary school?

He looks so incredibly cute – and this is not something she had ever expected to think of him. The question seems unnecessary to her. They spent the whole afternoon making out like crazy, so it kind of goes without saying for her that they are together now. But the verbal affirmation seems important to him, so she nods her head, smiling.

“Yeah. Of course”

He smiles in relief, and she can’t resist, she gives him a quick kiss on the lips through the rolled down window, after looking over her shoulder to make sure no one is standing on the house’s front porch.

“Drive safe, please” she says when they break the kiss. He refrains from rolling his eyes at her, which she appreciates.

“I’ll call you when I get home” he says as he starts the ignition, and there is something about that sentence that leaves her speechless, and makes her feel warmer and fuzzier than him asking her to be his girl.

“Shireen? Are you home?” her father calls the moment she sets foot in the house. His voice is coming from somewhere upstairs and it’s a little lost in other sounds.

“Yeah. I’m not late, am I?” she says as she takes her jacket off. She has the urge to cackle, because she just can’t believe the day she’s had, but instead she tries to calm herself before she follows her father’s voice upstairs.

“Hi” she says. She’s finally located them in the bathroom. It’s bath time for Stanny and Minnie. Both her father and Sansa are kneeling by the tub, her with her hair in a messy bun, him with his shirt sleeves rolled up. Debussy’s music is filling the room. It’s part of a lengthy experiment that Shireen is conducting, trying to figure out what kind of music the babies prefer. So far they seem to be ok with classical music and blues, of all things.

“I’m not late, am I?” she asks again, because she didn’t get an answer the first time around.

“No, you’re not late. Just a little later than usual, and it’s a Sunday. You have school tomorrow” her father says, trying to look stern. He fails, because at that moment Stanny is looking particularly cute as he’s clutching his favourite bath toy – a blue plastic hippo that had actually once belonged to Shireen.

“Was that a car we heard? You didn’t come back with the bus?” Sansa asks. She’s making funny hairstyles with the lather on Minisa’s hair while her daughter is playing with her fleet of rubber duckies. It’s a little unreal how much the babies are enjoying bath time now, given how much they hated it in the first couple of months.

“Er. Bran gave me a ride” she says as casually as possible, wondering how Sansa could hear the car engine over the music, the splashing and the squeals. Perhaps it’s a superpower mothers naturally develop. She doesn’t feel her face heating up though, and she hopes that means she’s not turned as red as a tomato.

“All the way from Winterfell? Ned and Catelyn should tell him how expensive gas is these days” her father observes, but he doesn’t say anything else on the matter. Shireen opens her mouth, ready to defend Bran, but she quickly realizes how stupid that would be and shuts it again.

The conversation naturally reverts to where it was before Shireen came in the bathroom, with Sansa and her father talking about grocery lists, and calling Dr. Cressen to come see how the babies are developing, in between cooing at their children and admiring every little thing they do. Shireen contributes to the conversation by nodding and murmuring in agreement sometimes, but she can’t quite concentrate on it. It all sounds too trivial and commonplace and she’s still trying to wrap her head around the fact that she and Bran are much more than friends as of today. She rubs her eyes, suddenly feeling quite tired. Her head is swimming, like she’s coming down from an adrenaline rush, which is probably what is actually happening.

_I kissed your brother,_ she thinks as she watches Sansa rinsing Minnie’s hair with a small plastic watering can. Her baby sister is laughing. She’s almost mastered it – an overexcited “ghee” sound comes out of her tiny mouth again and again. _I really, really like your wife’s brother,_ she thinks, looking at her father carefully wrapping Stanny in a fluffy towel. And she repeats the thoughts in her head over and over again, and it fascinates her that she is sitting in this room with them, with her lips swollen from all the kissing and the boy’s taste still on her tongue, and they have absolutely no idea that pretty much everything has changed for her.

She wonders how long she can keep it this way – how long she can keep everyone blissfully unaware.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Shireen sings to Minisa is "Cry baby cry" by the Beatles. Sadly, you can't find the proper version on YouTube.  
> In this verse people can drive from the age of 16. Bran is 17 now, so he can drive his dad's car and waste a lot of money in gas.  
> I hope you liked this chapter! :)


	24. age sixteen (part three)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shireen keeps secrets

“Remember when you told me your parents have never really given you the sex talk?” Myrcella asks, raising her voice to be heard over the piercing cries of the babies. She’s come by the house in a rather bad moment – the babies are cranky because they’re teething again and they cry over anything, driving everyone insane. Shireen misses the days when her siblings were those tiny things with tiny lungs, and their cries were not louder than those of newborn kittens.

“What do you mean?” she asks absentmindedly. She’s painting her nails a dark blue, and it’s taking up all of her attention to not mess it up.

“Well, I think your dad is giving you the sex talk with the babies. Like, hello, here’s a cautionary tale for you, little Shireen: Don’t have sex, because this is what happens – you get loud babies that cry and poop and vomit all the time! Don’t have sex!” Myrcella says, doing a fairly good job at imitating her uncle’s stern voice. She’s painted her nails a rich red, and now she’s making little designs with gold polish and a toothpick. “It’s genius if you think about it” she adds thoughtfully.

Shireen laughs. She’s pretty sure this isn’t why her father and Sansa decided to have kids – to deter her from having sex- but living with the babies and contributing to their care has definitely made her think about how she could definitely not handle children of her own any time soon – not that she wanted to.

“Anyway, it’s not like he needs to worry about anything, you’re light years away from any action” Myrcella says almost smugly. 

The images, the feelings, they flood her mind. His house empty and quiet – a rare occasion. And him on top of her, his breath hot on her skin, on her lips. Her mouth is dry, but she is sweating, the heat of their bodies and the sweet throbbing down there almost unbearable. Their hands are exploring surfaces, getting braver each time. And this time, his are trembling as they start unzipping her jeans. Her breath is caught in her throat, and for a moment she has to think really hard – does she want to? She could let him go on, she could. But it's too soon, too soon.

She tells him to stop, to wait a moment, and his fingers freeze, his eyes look at her questioningly under heavy lids. She tells him the truth, that she’s never done this before. She tells him she doesn’t know if she’s ready, and she asks him if they can wait. He looks at her for a moment, letting the words sink in, and then his whole body comes into motion. He rolls to her side, pulling her in a hug, as he says, again and again, that they can wait, he can wait forever, because he would never – he would never _ever_ pressure her to do anything. Her body is still humming as she burrows her face in his neck and she thinks that they may wait for a while, but they will not wait forever.

“Helloooo, Earth to Shireen!”

Shireen should have known better. She should have known not to let her guard down around Myrcella – her cousin is extremely sharp and observant when she wants to. By the time she realizes that her face has naturally assumed a guilty expression and her cheeks are flushed, it’s too late.

 _“What?_ What’s going on?” Myrcella asks with a hungry gleam in her eyes. She _loves_ gossip.

“Nothing” Shireen says quickly. A little too quickly. 

“Come on, spit it out” Myrcella says authoritatively. She’s blowing air on her nails, to make them dry faster, but her eyes never leave Shireen. 

Shireen doesn’t want to. It’s been almost three months that she’s been with Bran now, and she’s loved every minute of it. She doesn’t want anything to change. She wants to stay in this bubble of theirs forever. If she tells Myrcella, the bubble is gone, just like that. On the other hand, she knows that Myrcella won’t find peace until she extracts every juicy detail from her. And the truth is, Myrcella has always talked to her about her romantic pursuits –and there have been many lately- even when Shireen hadn’t cared to ask.

Her father suddenly pops his head in her room, looking rather miserable because Stanny and Minnie seem to be determined to become death metal singers one day.

“Have you seen Octavio? I think it’s our last chance to calm Steffon down” he says tiredly.

“Who’s Octavio?” Myrcella asks baffled.

“His favourite plush octopus” Shireen explains. “I think I saw it in the kitchen, but I’m not sure” she tells her father, who nods and leaves. Shireen goes back to her nails, thankful for the distraction.

“Don’t think you’ll get away so easily” Myrcella says.

Shireen takes a long look at her cousin. Then she takes a deep breath.

//

“So you have terrible taste in guys” Bran says cheerfully. He’s having way too much fun with this.

“According to Myrcella, yes” Shireen huffs.

They’re walking through a park in Winterfell, their breaths coming out in little white puffs in the cold December air. They’re spending a lot of time outside when she comes to visit, because they can’t trust themselves to stay in a room alone for a few hours. Anyone might walk in, or hear something. So they go out, and they hold hands and talk about everything and nothing. Catelyn pointed out this morning that they are really weird kids, staying locked up in a room all of September and October when the weather was still good, and suddenly deciding to start going out when the weather got really cold. They kind of shrugged, because they couldn’t come up with a decent excuse.

“Well. She has a point. After all, I’m just a… _skinny, self-important hipster with bad taste in music,_ isn’t that what she said? You should have picked a braindead jock instead of a half-crippled nerd” he says, trying to look sad and miserable, but his lips betray him, quivering from the effort not to part into a grin.

“Pretty much. It’s just that I felt so sorry for you. Having to hobble around with that cane of yours, having to give up your dreams of ever becoming team captain…” she says, playing along. He likes this game, where he pretends to feel sorry for himself. It’s his way of telling people that he doesn’t need anyone’s pity.

“Poor me” he says with a chuckle.

“I don’t get why you guys don’t get along well” she adds then thoughtfully.

“Because all our lives people were very insistent that we get along” Bran says simply. “Because our fathers are as close as brothers”

She hums, showing that she understands.

“It’s quite ironic actually. They all wanted me and Myrcella to be best friends; they’ve made us spent so much time together. And we get along, sure. I mean, she’s cool, she can be really funny. We just don’t click the way our parents would like us to. But with you… no one had the expectation that we would be friends, or even get along at all. And look at us now” Bran says pensively.

“So it’s all been the whim of an angsty teen who doesn’t want to do what his parents want him to do. We only got together because you’re being a rebel and all” Shireen teases him.

“Totally” he laughs and then he stops in his tracks and turns to kiss her. His lips are cold, just like hers, but his mouth is warm. His taste is familiar now and she welcomes it.

“Only, you know, it doesn’t work that well” he says when they break the kiss. His gloved hands are clearing leaves from a bench so that they can sit. He needs to take breaks every now and then – the cold is hard on his muscles and bones. “Because our parents don’t know anything yet”

She groans as she slumps on the bench. This isn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation.

“If you really want to tell your parents so much, why don’t you go ahead and tell them?”

“Seriously? Because my dad’s a blabbermouth and sooner or later he’ll tell Robert, and Robert won’t waste any time to tell your father. And I’m pretty sure you’d prefer your father to hear this from you first” Bran says flatly. Shireen scowls, because he’s absolutely right and she can’t argue back.

‘It’s just… I’ve never talked about anything like this to him before. It’s a little weird” she admits.

“I get it” Bran says soothingly. “But the thing is… this is good, right?”

She nods readily. She can’t say with words just how good this is. This last couple of months is one of the happiest times in her life so far. Nothing can top the warm feeling in her stomach when she gets good-morning and good-night texts from him, or when he presses his lips on hers, or when his arms slide around her waist, pulling her close to him. Not even the paranoia of being caught can spoil her happiness.

“So what I’m trying to say is… because this is good… I think we have many months ahead of us” Bran goes on, slowly, but not hesitantly. He is always the one to mention the future. Shireen hadn’t dared to think they would make it over two weeks or a month. She hadn’t dared to think at all. She just lived in the moment and enjoyed it as much as she could - that’s what her experience with Karl taught her. But now they’re almost three months in, and she can’t find a reason not to believe that they will make it to four, to six months, to a year perhaps. 

Bran is smiling, because he knows what she’s thinking.

“It’s just that our families get together so often, and it would be nice if we didn’t have to pretend nothing’s going on” he says.

“So what, do you think we can make out on the dinner table in front of our parents once we tell them?” Shireen snorts.

“Yes, this is all my rebel soul has ever wanted” Bran says sarcastically. “I just think it would be nice if you didn’t have to get so paranoid in front of others”

She looks at her shoes guiltily. The Starks had come for a visit in King’s Landing a couple of weeks ago, and Shireen had spent the entire afternoon ignoring Bran so hard that Sansa had asked her if they’ve had a fight after her family had left. 

He smiles at her and squeezes her hand, making her go a little weak in the knees. They never really used to touch before, except for a few playful shoves every now and then, and she’s started wondering if their bodies knew what’s up long before their brains did. But now Bran won’t miss a chance to hold her hand. It keeps amazing her how open he is, how willing he is to express whatever it is he feels for her.

“Just give me some more time” she says eventually.

//  
He gives her way too much time. By March, she’s still keeping it a secret from everyone except Devan and Myrcella. She knows she has to tell her father and Sansa, but the longer she waits, the harder it gets. And in some weird way, she almost wants to see how far she can go without them noticing anything.

“… happy birthday dear Steffon and Minisa, happy birthday to youuuu!”

They all sing together, uncle Robert’s booming voice rising above everyone else’s.

Shireen is looking at her father and Sansa as she sings, each holding one of the babies and leaning over a massive birthday cake with two candles. They make for a beautiful picture, Sansa in a pretty wrap dress, her father in his usual crisp shirts and the babies in their smartest outfits. Her father and Sansa are showing the little flames to Steffon and Minisa, distracting them from the slightly alarming singing, and then they both comically fill their mouths with air, the skin of their cheeks tautening. The living room erupts in cheers and claps when they blow the candles, and both Steffon and Minisa seem very perplexed with the whole event.

A camera flash blinds her for a moment. It’s only Bran, who’s been taking pictures of the party. When he lowers the camera, she can see him smiling at her. 

She’s following him out of the room as inconspicuously as possible, but there’s no need for too much caution. Everyone is busy with getting a piece of the cake, or nibbling on finger food, or pinching the chubby cheeks of the birthday boy and birthday girl. 

“Gods, it’s been ages” Bran whines when they get in the bathroom closest to the living room, and leans in for a kiss without further delay. They don’t even bother to turn on the light. It really has been ages. They haven’t been by themselves for over two weeks now, and the distance has been driving them crazy. The kiss is deep and long, and Shireen doesn’t want it to end. From outside she can hear music and voices, but she can’t make them out and she doesn’t care too much. Only Uncle Robert’s voice is recognizable among the rest, but that’s always the case. Bran’s bony hips are pressed against hers, and she feels the most delicious heat spreading through her limbs. Uncle Robert’s voice sounds louder now, but she doesn’t make anything of it; he just probably downed more homemade, strictly non-alcoholic lemonade and is cracking an embarrassing joke. Her arms wrap tighter around Bran, letting him know she doesn’t want the kiss to end.

“No, honestly, Sansa, I can just bring some rubbing alcohol for the stain. Ramon says it works miracles. Anything for our little Minnie! It should be right he-aaaaaaaaaaAAAAHHHH!”

The light that has just been turned on blinds Shireen for a moment, but it’s her uncle’s bloodcurdling scream that makes Shireen jump like she’s been electrocuted. 

“What the – Neeeeed! Stanniiiiiiiis!” he shouts then, his pupils dilated with shock. His hands instinctively go to his head, as if he’s trying to prevent it from exploding, and his fingers get caught in the elastic string of the colourful party hat he’s wearing.

“No, uncle Robert, _don’t!”_ Bran whispers loudly, and Shireen instinctively tries to shut her uncle’s mouth with her hands.

“Shhh! Please, uncle!” she hisses as she steps forward, her hands extended, but he takes a step back.

“Staaaaan! Neeeeed!” he shouts again, a look of panic on his face.

“What’s going on?” Shireen’s father demands when he reaches the crime scene. Ned, Sansa and Catelyn are following behind him, looking rather alarmed. Catelyn is holding Steffon, and Sansa is holding Minisa, who has a wine stain on her pretty polka-dot dress.

“Did you know about this?” Uncle Robert asks the two other men accusingly. His arms flail to the direction of Bran and Shireen, who have cleverly assumed a safe distance from each other.

“That we have a bathroom? Yes, we are aware of it” Shireen’s dad says dryly. Behind him, Ned is looking at his son and Shireen curiously, a strange glint in his eyes.

“Did you see a cockroach, Robert? Because if you did, I’m leaving right now” Renly says nervously, who has also followed his brother’s screams from the living room. 

His glittery gold party hat is jauntily perched on his black hair and he’s holding a half-empty wine glass, which could explain the stain on Minisa’s dress. Probably he flailed his arms a bit too much, like he often does. Loras is craning his neck to see what’s happening, but Ned and Renly are taller than him and their hats block the view. Robb, Rickon, Arya, Gendry, Margaery, Davos, Marya, Devan and Myrcella also squeeze themselves in the corridor to see what’s going on.

“What? No” Robert says, distracted by Renly for a moment, but then he finds his train of thought again. “These two-” he starts, but he falters, because he obviously doesn’t know how to continue. Despite her rising panic, Shireen finds it somewhat amusing that her crass uncle who loves dirty jokes finds the task of describing a simple kiss impossible.

About a dozen pair of eyes are now on Bran and Shireen, waiting for uncle Robert to finish his sentence. Myrcella and Devan, who have figured out what’s going on, are giving Shireen a look of horror mixed with sympathy. On Myrcella’s part though, there’s a tinge of perverse amusement there too.

The pause is a few seconds long, but it’s enough for Shireen to realise it’s now or never. She makes a split second decision.

“I’m dating Bran” she says with a deep breath, looking straight at her father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh cliffhanger!  
> No, just a clumsy way of breaking up the scenes. Next chapter will be up tomorrow or the day after.


	25. age sixteen (part four)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shireen comes clean

“You are doing _what?”_ her father asks incredulously.

“Is there some other Bran?” Loras asks in confusion.

“Oh, for the love of the gods, what is it with the Starks?” Renly exclaims.

“What did she say?”

“Dating?” the word seems to slowly be sinking in her father’s brain.

“Dating in the bathroom? Is that what they call it now?” Arya asks amusedly, a wolfish grin on her face. Next to her, Gendry smiles too, after he makes sure Catelyn isn’t looking his way.

“Arya!” Sansa says in shock.

“They were kissing!” Robert blurts out, having finally figured out the right words.

“Is that all? I thought you caught them smoking!” Catelyn says, swatting Robert’s shoulder reproachfully. From her arms, Steffon tries to reach his uncle’s party hat, but it’s too far. Half the faces in the corridor switch their expressions from confusion to amusement. Shireen and Bran are still stuck in the bathroom, and everyone else is cramming in the corridor, trying to take a better look. 

“You are _dating?”_ Shireen’s dad repeats. “Did you know about this?” he hisses then at Ned, who looks thoroughly amused.

“Me? No!” Ned says innocently, but somehow even Shireen is not quite convinced.

She steals a quick glance at Bran. His mildly embarrassed look is enough to tell her that Ned came to his own conclusions, without Bran telling him anything. It shouldn’t have been too hard to figure out after all. There was a reason she avoided spending time with Bran in her father’s presence.

“How long has this been going on?” Shireen’s father asks her sternly.

“So neither of you knew? Phew, I’m so relieved! I thought you were holding secrets from me!” Robert interjects, looking incredibly relieved while at the same time giving his brother and his best friend the puppy eyes. Ned pats him on the shoulder, but his brother ignores him, preferring to shoot daggers at his eldest daughter.

“Can we maybe get out of the bathroom? This is a little weird” Bran says, his voice surprisingly calm.

“You be quiet, young man, I am talking to my daughter now!” Shireen’s dad bites out, and he even shakes his finger at him. Shireen wants to facepalm. This is ridiculous.

“Now Stannis, there’s no need to-” Ned starts, but he gets cut off by his son-in-law.

“No need for what? Your _son-_ ” he retorts, but it’s his turn to be interrupted, this time by Sansa, who has remained strangely quiet through this farce.

“Darling, I really do think we should let the kids out of the bathroom before we talk about anything”

He almost scowls at her too, but his look softens immediately. Shireen has never, ever seen him angry at Sansa.

“Ga” Minnie says, seconding her mother.

“Fine” he grumbles. “You,” he barks then to Shireen “my study, now!”

The path doesn’t clear immediately. People linger in the corridor, either because they are trapped between others, or mostly because they don’t want to miss the show. There are even some mild protestations from Arya, Renly and Loras, and Sansa seems to be trying to tell something to her husband.

Eventually Shireen follows her father upstairs, and she can’t decide whether she feels better that their conversation will be private and therefore she won’t feel embarrassed in front of the others, or worse because the others won’t be there to derail the conversation with silly questions and buy Shireen time.

“Explain yourself” he says sharply, his hands on his waist, when she closes the door behind her. She’s always found him looking the most authoritative and intimidating in his study – even when he doesn’t work.

“I’m dating Bran” she repeats. She doesn’t like the word “date”. Dates are what grownups have, when they go out to dinner at fancy restaurants or meet at art exhibitions. She and Bran just walk around parks and play computer games. But she doesn’t –and didn’t- want to say “we are together” or “we have a relationship” in front of all these people. They would laugh. They would think that teenagers don’t know the first thing about relationships and love.

“You’re dating _this_ Bran” her father says carefully, each word enunciated clearly. It’s almost like he hopes there’s another Bran and this whole thing was a ridiculous misunderstanding.

“Yes. The one and only Bran Stark” she agrees.

“And how long has this been going on?” her father asks then. His voice is cool, but she can hear the turmoil underneath. She can see how white his knuckles are as his hands grip the back of a chair.

“Well… Since October” Shireen admits.

“Six _months_? _Six?_ And you said nothing?” her father exclaims.

“Well it’s more like five, because it was late October and-”

“That’s irrelevant” he barks and then his eyes darken. “So you have been lying to us all these months? Do you realise how disrespectful and irresponsible this is? I mean, who is this Bran anyway!”

“Um, your wife’s brother? You’ve met him before, I _think?”_ Shireen says irritated. What is he on about anyway? As if Bran is some kind of sleazebag he has to protect her from! And how dare he accuse her of lying? According to that logic, he also lied to her about Sansa in the beginning of their relationship. All Shireen did was omit parts of the truth!

“Don’t get sarcastic with me” her father warns her. She can see the storm gather in his sea-blue eyes.

“Look, I _really_ meant to tell you” Shireen says desperately. It is important that he understands this. “I really didn’t mean for everyone to find out like this. I wanted to tell you first. I just couldn’t find the right moment. You were always so busy with work and the babies… and I also wanted to make sure first” she explains.

It is half the truth. The other half is that she procrastinated on purpose for as long as she could, to save herself the embarrassment of this conversation.

“Make sure of what?” he asks sharply. He is not at all appeased by her explanations.

“That this was something worth mentioning” she says. Her heart is pounding against her ribcage, but her voice is thankfully steady.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he grunts. She resists the urge to roll her eyes. Why does he have to make it so difficult? Why does he need her to spell everything out to him?

“That we like each other… a lot. Bran… he’s really nice” she says quietly. Bran is so much more than nice, but something tells her that praising her secret boyfriend is not going to improve her father’s mood right now.

“Shireen, for future reference, something that has been going on in your life for five whole months is definitely worth mentioning!” he says sharply.

“I really meant to tell you”

“And behaving like this – in your brother and sister’s first birthday party! That was very improper!”

“I’m really sorry about that” she says. And it’s true. Only, she’s not sorry about anything else.

Her father presses his lips together, and looks at her searchingly.

“Is this why you have been so… cheerful lately?”

“Yes” 

“Does he respect you?”

“Of course”

“And do you have respect for him?”

This last question takes her by surprise. She blinks at her father, who obviously expects an answer.

“Yes” she says then. Of course she respects Bran, whatever than means.

He looks at her for a few moments, a keen and steady look that seems piercing to her. Eventually and quite unexpectedly he seems to deflate a little. He slumps on the chair he’s been gripping all this time, and rubs his eyes.

“Why Bran, though?” he asks.

“You don’t like him” she says. It’s not quite an accusation, but it’s close enough.

“I don’t dislike him either! I don’t know him well enough to dislike him!” her father protests.

“Well you would know him better if you ever paid attention to other humans and not just Sansa” Shireen says flatly. The way her father loves Sansa – it’s beautiful and heartwarming. But it’s a little baffling and embarrassing when he spends entire dinners with the Starks or his brothers, paying almost all of his attention to his wife and no one else.

Two red spots appear on his cheeks. He knows what she’s talking about.

“Is the problem that Bran is Sansa’s brother?” she asks then. She has a feeling the conversation is going there anyway –if not this afternoon, then certainly another day- and she decides to get done with it. She already feels uncomfortable, so what the hell.

“It’s just… unusual” her father says carefully. “It complicates things a little”

“I know” Shireen says tiredly. Bran is technically her step-uncle. His father is also her father’s father-in-law. Her siblings are his nephew and niece. Myrcella has been reminding her of those facts all the time, and she uses words more colourful than “unusual”.

“But he’s my friend. Our only connection is your marriage to Sansa” she adds. Her father nods, but he stays silent for a while.

“My main concern is that our families are very close now” he says eventually. “You and Bran will be in each other’s lives in one way or another for a long time. Have you thought about that? I don’t want to rain on your parade, but what will happen if things don’t work out? How will you deal with seeing him all the time?

His voice is serious, but calm, and his expression has softened considerably in the last few minutes.

“I don’t know, dad. I guess we’ll just have to be mature about it” Shireen says honestly, and a chuckle escapes her lips. It feels surreal to have such a heart-to-heart with her father – about a boyfriend, no less. On the other hand, that’s what it’s always been like with her dad. Either they won’t talk about certain subjects at all, or they’re going to be bluntly honest. Most of the time there’s no middle ground.

He looks up at her again. The storm in his eyes is dying down, but his expression is indiscernible.

“Are you angry?” she asks nervously after a few more silent minutes. She doesn’t want him to be angry and most of all, she doesn’t want to be the reason he’s angry. When she was a child, he rarely had to scold her or tell her she’s done something wrong. She knows that she hasn’t done anything wrong now, except for ruining her siblings’ birthday party maybe, but the little girl inside her still hates the thought she made her dad upset.

“I’m not angry” he says after some thought. “I’m brought face to face with the fact that you are growing up a lot faster than I expected. And it’s not an easy thing to accept” he explains as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

His words have the reverse effect on her. She suddenly feels small, like the little girl she once was. She feels a lump in her throat, and the tension of the last hour is suddenly crushing her. She was so alert and focused on trying to explain herself that she didn’t realise how nervous and tense she was. 

“Look, I understand that you want to have your private life, but… I don’t want you to feel like you can’t share things with us. You don’t need to tell us everything. But don’t leave us completely in the dark” he says then, his words slow and careful. 

_As long as you don’t make such a fuss next time,_ Shireen thinks, but she just nods. She knows she shouldn’t have waited so long to tell them.

“Right. Off you go then” her father says then awkwardly.

“Er. Are we cool now?” Shireen asks uncertainly as she walks to the door. He said he wasn’t angry with her, but she can’t help but feel that he is at least a little bit disappointed in her.

He pauses, looking at her thoughtfully.

“We will be” he says then.

Somehow, his frankness is a greater relief than him just saying “yes”. There is comfort in knowing that though she now seems different to him, he is the same to her.

//

She bumps into Sansa and Steffon on her way to the living room.

“Oh, there you are. Can you hold him for one moment? I need to wash my hands” Sansa says, and shoves her brother in her arms before waiting for an answer.

“All good?” she asks from the bathroom where Shireen was stuck only an hour ago.

“Er, yes” Shireen says, trying to find a better way to hold Stanny. He’s happily munching on one of the tentacles of his plush octopus and doesn’t seem to mind her hold too much.

“Your dad didn’t give you too much of a hard time?” Sansa asks as she dries her hands.

“No, not too much. But I think he’s a little upset I didn’t say anything earlier. Because we-”

“Yes, Bran told us. You have been very private, for quite some time now” Sansa says with a smile.

“Are you happy?” she asks then, and turns to face Shireen, who is caught a little off guard by the question.

“Yes” Shireen says and feels her cheeks redden a little.

“All good then” Sansa says. “Don’t worry, your father will come round” she adds, and then she takes Steffon in her arms again, kisses the top of Shireen’s head and leaves the bathroom before Shireen has time to say anything.

When she gets back in the living room, the mood is quite cheerful. Bran looks fine – his hair is a little ruffled, and he probably got interrogated by everyone, but it’s obvious that no one was mad at him. 

Robert is beside himself with happiness now that he’s certain people are not keeping secrets from him, repeating to anyone who has the patience to listen to him that Starks and Baratheons just can’t help it, they go together like bread and butter. Every now and then he whispers something in Bran’s ear that makes the boy red in the face. Shireen is not sure if she wants to know what it is.

Arya also seems quite happy, noting that finally her mother will stop pestering her about Gendry, now that some girl is threatening to steal her baby boy. Gendry on her side doesn’t seem too hopeful, however, and Catelyn scolds her for her rude remarks. 

Davos, Robb, Marya and Margaery are talking about their own first crushes and high school sweethearts, shooting amused glances at Bran and Shireen every now and then. 

“Alas, Myrcella, it seems there are no more Starks for you to choose. You must feel the burden of breaking this ancient and noble tradition” Renly teases his niece as he sips on his lemonade.

“Rickon maybe? Or will you wait for little Ned to grow older?” Loras suggests cheerfully.

“Myrcella is too young to think about boyfriends!” Uncle Robert pipes up. Myrcella gives him her sweetest, most innocent smile, but when her father turns his head, she winks at her uncles and Shireen. 

Unlike Shireen’s father, who still seems a little conflicted about the whole thing, Ned seems very cheerful – almost gleeful. When Shireen’s dad takes him to the side to talk to him in private - about their children no doubt – Shireen strains her ears to catch what they are saying. She only manages to hear Ned saying “Well, you’ll just have to trust her judgement, like I had to trust Sansa’s”, a playful smile on his lips and his eyes twinkling. 

She had not realized that Ned ever had misgivings about her father – perhaps her indignation had been too focused on Catelyn. And yet, now Catelyn is the one acting the most normal, not expressing any negative or positive opinion, and treating Shireen with the same detached politeness as always, asking her whether she would like another piece of the birthday cake.

Shireen accepts the piece gratefully. She never really liked being in the spotlight, and now that everyone’s attention is on her and Bran, Catelyn’s seeming indifference is oddly comforting.

“So much for star-crossed lovers, though. Now we’ll never be like Romeo and Juliet” Bran says in mock-disappointment when Shireen sits next to him (not too close, all their moves are monitored at the moment).

“I’d consider this a good thing. You know, the general lack of poisons, daggers and bubonic plague usually counts as an advantage to any relationship” Shireen points out.

“Speak for yourself. I want doom and gloom” Bran says, but he is smiling.

“Will you be like this all the time?” Rickon asks from the other side of the sofa, wrinkling his nose. He’s entering the phase where he’s sulky all the time, just because, but he’s extra sulky today because he thought Tommen would be at the party.

“No, Rickon. Just in your presence” Bran says sweetly.

Eventually Sansa has the brilliant idea to start opening everyone’s presents for Stanny and Minnie, causing conversations to drift to baby- and gift-related topics, to Shireen’s great relief – it is getting a bit tiresome to resist the urge to spew everything she knows about Myrcella’s countless ex-boyfriends every time uncle Robert vaguely speaks of wedding bells and wiggles his eyebrows to her and Bran.

Only Renly knits his brow from time to time, chewing on his striped straw, and wonders out loud in an earnest voice: “Honestly though, what _is_ it with the Starks?”


	26. age sixteen (part five)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stannis tries his best at being the dad of a daughter with a boyfriend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to update the story, life kept me very busy. I hope you like this chapter, despite the delay! :)

Her father seems to go back and forth a lot about the whole Bran thing. There are days where he tries to play it cool, asks her how Bran is doing and whether they’re going to meet in the weekend. On other occasions though, his paranoia wins over and he somehow manages to turn any random conversation with Sansa and Shireen into a full-blown interrogation about Bran’s character.

“If you are so curious, why don’t you ask him yourself?” Sansa asks in amusement one morning as she gives Steffon some mushed banana. Bananas are the new big thing for the twins – they’re crazy about it and the fact that they can’t have more than a spoon per day kind of makes them want it even more. Shireen is holding Minnie, who's already had her banana-dose for the day, stoically answering her dad’s silly questions. (“Has Bran ever cheated on a test? Does he park in parking spaces reserved for the disabled?”) 

Shireen’s dad freezes. He was in the middle of taking the tea-bag out of his cup, but now the soggy bag is left hanging in mid-air, dripping quietly on the kitchen island. His face muscles twitch a little, like his brain is getting re-wired.

“You know what, that’s _exactly_ what I’m going to do” he says decisively, an ominous glint in his eyes. “Shireen, tell Bran he should come over for dinner one day”

“Dad, is that really necessary?” Shireen moans.

“Absolutely. Sansa, thank you for this excellent idea” he says. Sansa gives him her brightest smile, unaware of the damage she’s done.

“But he has exams now. He won’t have time for the dinner!” Shireen says hastily.

“Very well, we’ll arrange it for when he finishes his exams” her father says calmly. Shireen sighs, accepting defeat. Getting an idea out of her father’s head is more difficult than extracting objects from a black hole.

“’Nana!” Minnisa says, touching her sister’s face.

“I think we need to take you to Bananaholics Anonymous meetings” Shireen tells her seriously.

//

“So my father…” she starts, when she feels that the previous topic of conversation has been exhausted.

“Let me guess” Bran cuts in. “He’s decided to live a little and he now has his water with lime instead of lemon slices”

Shireen rolls her eyes. She’s called him on Skype, and she can see his cocky smile.

“No, dummy. He wants to invite you over for dinner” she says.

The smile disappears from Bran’s face, and there’s a tiny part of her that is thoroughly amused by his sudden panic. This is why she called him on Skype instead of the phone.

//

With this and that, and trying to find a weekend on which Bran and Shireen on the one hand are not piled with homework and Stannis and Sansa on the other hand are not too busy or tired with the babies, it’s already May when they manage to have the much-discussed dinner.

Shireen is cranky on the actual day. She’s spent most of the day in the kitchen with Sansa, and now she’s wearing a nice dress and her hair is in a pretty braid, and she just wonders what the hell is the point. It’s only her boyfriend of seven months, who prefers dressing casually and is happy to eat the same food every day of the week. Dressing up and cooking all day, worrying whether the food will turn out good or not makes her feel like she’s a girl from a past century, trying to convince a guy that she’s marriage material. Her father has also complained that this is getting a little out of hand, but Sansa insists that if they’re going to do it, they ought to do it properly.

“Stannis? Is that you?” Sansa calls from the master bedroom when Shireen passes by in a hurry.

“No, just me. Dad is setting the baby monitor in the dining room” Shireen replies from outside the door. 

“You’ll do just as well, come in” Sansa says.

When she gets in the room she finds Sansa fighting with the zipper of her dress.

“Can you give me a hand?” she asks in a frustrated voice.

“Sure”

“Can you believe that it fits my hips and waist just fine, but it won’t zip up the torso?” Sansa says indignantly as Shireen tries to zip her up. “It’s so strange, I’m back to my regular weight, but my body is just not the same. Judging from my clothes, my ribcage has grown two sizes”

“Well, that happens with pregnancies, right?” Shireen says. The teeth of the zipper get pulled together slowly but steadily. This might just work.

“Yes, your organs get pushed up to make space for the babies, and your ribs have to get wider” Sansa says.

“Or maybe your heart has grown bigger now that you have so much more love to give, and your ribs had to make more space for it” Shireen suggests as she zips the dress all the way up.

“Shireen… That’s so sweet!” Sansa says. Her reflection on the vanity has a really sappy, but ultimately cute expression. Shireen shrugs awkwardly.

“Look who’s turned into a romantic as of late!” Sansa then says teasingly. “I wonder why that may be…”

“Please” Shireen snorts “Bran is the romantic one”

It’s true. He’s always the one to say sappy things, the one to talk about the future, the one to ascribe significance to small, inconsequential things. Just last week he told her that it must have meant something that she was there at the hospital the night he fought for his life. Shireen remains cautious, pragmatic. A part of her is still expecting things to go wrong, but it’s a part that gets smaller every day.

The doorbell rings, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“I’ve got it!” she screams as she runs down the stairs. There’s no way she’ll let her father open the door.

“Hi – oh gods, _who_ are you?” she says with a laugh when she opens the door.

Bran is wearing a shirt and a blazer instead of a hoodie and a new pair of desert shoes instead of his well-worn sneakers. And his hair is now short, his auburn locks gone.

“Trying to suck up to the man?” Shireen guesses. She has to admit he looks really good. He should wear shirts all the time. And it’s not that she didn’t like his longer hair, but the short crop makes him look a little more grownup.

“Pretty much” Bran says. “I also brought these” he says, and nods to the two flower bouquets filling his arms. “Peonies for Sansa, and buttercups for you. I was going to get some for your father too, but I wasn’t sure if he prefers orchids or dahlias” he adds, making a half-hearted attempt at a joke. He must be at least a little bit nervous, she can tell.

“How about a carnivorous plant he could feed you to?” Shireen suggests sweetly. “He would really appreciate that”

The dinner however goes a lot better than Shireen had dared to hope. It’s a little awkward at first, with her father greeting Bran with a stiff handshake and Sansa doing her best to keep the conversation going with her killer hostess skills. But she can see that her father is actually trying his best. He’s focused on Bran, asking his questions as mildly as his character allows him, and listens to the boy with polite interest. He actually looks like he really cares for what he has to say, even if he doesn’t always seem to agree with Bran.

“So this is your last year in school” he says to Bran at some point during the main course.

“Yes, I’m graduating next month” Bran says as he pushes some of the duck on his fork. He has repeatedly mentioned how delicious the food is, which has made Shireen swell with pride, and then feel a little silly about it.

“And what are your plans after that? Have you thought about which university you’d like to attend?” her father asks.

“I’m actually thinking about taking a gap year” Bran says casually. Despite his initial nervousness, he has been remarkably calm throughout the dinner and Shireen is envious of his self-control.

“A gap year?” Shireen’s father repeats. He doesn’t seem very impressed. “And what are your plans for this gap year? Do you have any job prospects?”

“I’d like to volunteer somewhere. Build something, teach something. I’d like to do something good”

“Oh” Shireen’s dad says, looking a little surprised. She wonders what had crossed his mind – that Bran would spend an entire year sitting on his ass? 

“That’s a wonderful idea, Bran” Sansa says encouragingly, even though Bran doesn’t seem to need any encouragement.

“But can’t you do that in your free time, while you study at university? There’s no reason to wait for an entire year” Shireen’s dad says.

“There’s no hurry to start immediately either” Bran points out. “I want to be a volunteer full-time. I think that way I’ll manage to offer more. I think a lot more people would do volunteer work if they could afford it. But for most of them it’s just impossible, they have to make a living. But I can afford not to get paid for my work. So I feel like I have to do it. And this way I might have a clearer idea of what I want to do once I start university”

Shireen’s dad stares at the boy for a few moments, but then he nods, obviously unable to find some fault to this argument. And then he proceeds to ask Bran what kind of volunteer work he would like to do – because the Baratheon Company makes charitable donations to some non-profits, and maybe he could bring Bran in contact with someone if he is interested in working in one of them?

Shireen looks at Sansa. The faintest smile is playing on her lips, the pleased smile of a person who always thought things would turn out well eventually.

//

She finds Sansa in the nursery, long after Bran has left. She’s sitting on her big armchair, murmuring songs to the babies, who are curled close to her chest. They’ve grown so much in this last year that it’s hard to believe how tiny they used to be.

“Dad asks if you’ve seen his glasses” Shireen says in a whisper, because she doesn’t want to disturb the serenity of the room.

“Hmm? Tell him to look in his briefcase” Sansa says, stopping her song for a bit.

“Ok then” Shireen murmurs and turns to leave, but then she stops. She stays where she is, close to the door, for one moment, but then she steps closer to Sansa’s chair. 

“Do you think it went well?” she asks Sansa, again in a whisper. She’s talking about the dinner of course.

“Your father has a rather good opinion of Bran at the moment” Sansa says in a low, calm voice. “Remember when you left the dining room in the middle of our meal to bring the water pitcher from the kitchen? Bran stopped eating, and your father asked him why. He said he was waiting for you to come back. It was… very sweet of him. I’m sure your father thought so too” she says quietly.

Shireen’s heart flutters in her chest, and she feels her cheeks flushing. It wouldn’t have crossed her mind to do the same thing for him.

“Bran…” she starts, but she doesn’t know how to finish.

“He is a good boy” Sansa supplies. Shireen nods, although she thinks that “good” is an understatement. Bran is _the best._

“I told your father, you know” Sansa continues. Her voice is like a song, bringing sweet sleep to her children even though she doesn’t sing of stars and fairies. “I told him after we first found out, that he should be happy you chose to be with someone like Bran. Someone kind and thoughtful. It means he did something right with the way he raised you. I think he saw that today. I told him, back then, that this is what I want for our children too. I want to raise them thinking of what kind of people I’d like to see them date in fifteen years’ time. Someone who will appreciate them for who they are. People don’t understand that; they’ll say it’s too soon, or too silly, that you can’t predict who your children will fall for. But I think you should try and give them the tools that will help them understand which people are worth their time and which are not. I hope I can do that” Sansa says pensively.

“Well, you’ve already done it. You’ve raised me too” Shireen points out.

It’s a spontaneous thought, one that she hasn’t really dwelled on. It’s a no-brainer, really. Sansa’s eyes are shining in the dark room. There’s something there, soft, yet steady. Something passes between the girl and the woman, an understanding. Then her focus shifts, and Shireen turns to follow it. Her father is standing at the door, his figure dark against the light of the corridor. She can’t make out his expression, but his posture is relaxed, inviting. The moonlight peeks from the window, shedding a silver path on the wooden floor that connects the babies and Sansa to Shireen, and Shireen to her father, like beads on a silver string.

//

“Stop stealing my bucket”

“Stop stealing my spade then”

“Learn to share”

“Uh-oh, double standards!”

Shireen tries to keep a straight face and stoops her head to examine the seashells she’s been collecting. She’s even separating them in different piles, according to their shape, so that Bran and Devan can choose the ones they like the best. Next to her, Voldetort is slowly wading on the damp sand.

It’s late June and they are at the beach close to Shireen’s house. Bran and Devan are building sandcastles. They said it’s for Minnie and Stanny, but Shireen knows better. They’re both covered in wet sand, and they’re progressively getting more antagonistic, adding more and more features to their castles. Bran, being the history nerd that he is, has added ramparts and a moat to his castle, while Devan’s castle has a slightly more futuristic feel to it, with lots of glass instead of sticks and seaweed.

She looks at them both, their hair wet and sandy, as they work tirelessly to make their creations perfect. Devan’s blond hair is even lighter in the sun, and his skin already tanned, stretching over well-exercised muscles. Next to him Bran looks younger even though he’s a year older, his freckled skin still pale and untouched by the sun, his skinny body resembling more that of a boy and not an adult. In a year, she’ll be an adult too, and something tells her that there’s not going to be a magical transformation once she blows her eighteen candles, like there is in the Sims. Like Bran, she’s probably just going to resemble a kid. In a way it seems fitting. In a year she’s still going to be into building sandcastles. And something tells her she’s never going to completely lose interest in her childhood pursuits.

Peels of laughter distract her from her thoughts. Her father and Sansa are in the water with her siblings. Sansa’s hair is dancing in the soft breeze, like flames licking her creamy arms and shoulders. She’s in a pretty bikini, and no one could have guessed that she gave birth to twins just a year ago. She and her husband are in the shallows, the water only reaching their knees. In their arms, the babies are covered under thick layers of sunscreen (Shireen’s dad doesn’t joke around with those things) and they wear colourful hats for extra protection. Her father and Sansa let the babies dip their little feet in the water, or they sprinkle it gently on their tummy and chest. Steffon and Minisa are not scared at all – they actually seem to be having the time of their lives, screeching and laughing every time they touch the water. Their parents are laughing too, obviously unable to resist to this infectious, pure joy. 

“So, which one do you prefer?” Devan asks.

“Hmm?”

“Which castle is the best?” Bran asks again and then he silently mouths the word _mine_ and gives her a wink.

“Hm, I think I’ll let Voldetort decide” she says after a bit of hesitation.

“That’s not fair, Bran is his godfather or something” Devan says suspiciously.

She laughs. She grabs the turtle, which seems to be more of an adventure spirit than she had expected, and places him in front of the two castles, waiting to see which direction he takes. Voldetort seems indecisive, and he mostly does loopy circles instead of going in a straight line with a specific direction.

Naturally, Bran and Devan start bickering over the turtle’s non-choice, but she doesn’t pay attention. She suddenly has the odd thought that her life is going to be more and more like this in the future. Her with her friends in one place. And her father, Sansa and her siblings somewhere in the distance, experiencing something else, a separate life.

She gets up and follows the laughter and the splashing of water – the sun is blinding, so she closes her eyes and follows the sounds. Her feet are steady and certain on the wet sand, and soon the soft waves greet her. She wades in the water for a while, suddenly uncertain of her direction. And then two wet hands grab her, one strong and steady, the other soft and gentle, and she opens her eyes. Her father’s and Sansa’s eyes are on her, keen, bright, lively. Their breaths come out short, excited. And her brother and sister squeal again, squirming in their parents’ arms as they try to reach her. And she laughs along with them as her feet sink deeper in the sand, anchoring her in their midst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case any of you are getting worried because Shireen is going straight to her siblings after touching her turtle, I think we can all imagine her cleaning her hands with wet wipes or something like that before running to her parents and siblings. I just didn't want to interrupt the flow of the scene with that little detail. :)


	27. age seventeen (part one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shireen is not the most patient of people // Sansa on the other hand is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry it took me so long to update. I hope this chapter makes up a little for the delay. I make no promises, but I'll try to update a little more regularly from now on. Thank you all for still sticking around! :)

Shireen drums her fingers on the car window. She’s following the rhythm of Toreador from Carmen, but her father and Sansa are not there to notice. She can see them from the backseat of her dad’s car, standing in front of the house. Her father is dressed in one of his sharp suits, his briefcase on his right hand. His left arm is wrapped around Sansa’s waist. She’s in a modest dress and flat shoes, and she’s carrying her old teacher’s bag. Both of them look like they’re fleeing a devastating war and they have to abandon the house of their forefathers.

“I never got to plant a lemon tree, darling” Shireen says in a sad girlish voice.

“I know, darling. Fear not, for we shall return” she replies to herself in a deeper voice.

“Oh, promise me, darling!” she says when Sansa turns to say something to her father.

“I promise you we shall plant a dozen lemon trees when we return” she replies again, supplying the words to her father’s moving lips.

She laughs to herself, glad that no one is around to witness her dorkiness.

“Are we leaving already? I’m going to be late for school!” she says when her father and Sansa finally get in the car.

“You’re not going to be late for anything; there is plenty of time” her father says curtly as he fastens his seatbelt.

“I’m sorry, Shireen. It’s just hard to leave Steffon and Minisa behind” Sansa says quietly, fumbling with her own seatbelt.

“But you’ve been away from them before” Shireen says a little impatiently.

“This is different” Sansa replies, but doesn’t supply any explanation.

During the summer Sansa decided that she wanted to go back to work. The twins were old enough for her to be away from them for some time, and she was itching to get back to teaching a class of eighth graders instead of two babies. She also decided that she didn’t want to go back to her old work. She wanted something different from the overbearing and slightly bizarre world of private schools, and so she decided to try her luck in public education, where the children would hopefully be a little less spoiled and the parents a little more grateful for her efforts. She quickly got appointed in a public elementary near Cobbler’s Square, one of the least affluent areas of the city. She had been very excited, talking about little else for weeks on end. 

She didn’t look very excited now.

“But they’re with Gilly, they’re fine” Shireen says. She really can’t see what the fuss is. Sansa is going to be away only for a few hours. She’s acting like she’s never going to see her kids again.

“Yes, yes” her father says, obviously trying to shush her.

He’s put the key in the ignition, but he hasn’t started the car yet. Instead he’s looking seriously at Sansa, who seems to be avoiding his eyes.

“Everything alright?” he asks her patiently.

“Yes. I’m – I’m just being silly. I was very excited about work, but now I feel like I’m a bad mother, abandoning my children” Sansa says quickly, her cheeks colouring a little.

“Nonsense!” Shireen’s father says, as if Sansa’s words have personally offended him. “You’re a wonderful mother. Steffon and Minisa will be fine. And soon they’ll be going to daycare, and they will be with other children, learning to socialize more… This is good for them” 

His voice is calm and full of conviction. Sansa at least seems to believe him, because she nods her head and looks at him thankfully. Shireen is somewhat indifferent to the whole drama. She was sent to daycare when she was barely over a year old, and as far as she knows there was no great discussion or hesitation over it. Her mother was dying to get back to work. Right now she just wants to ask if she can maybe get her bike instead, because it will probably take her less time to get to school. She doesn’t however. She can tell that, objectively, it would be perceived as a little insensitive.

Sansa leans her head on her husband’s shoulder, and he starts petting her hair. It’s very sweet, but it doesn’t exactly save them any time. Shireen’s father is apparently in no hurry at all – he’s already late for work, but that’s his choice; he wanted to drive Sansa to her new job on her first day.

“Better?” he asks after a while (to Shireen it seems like centuries).

“Better” Sansa agrees. She sounds a little more cheerful.

Her husband kisses the top of her head lightly, and he _finally_ starts the car as she gets back to sitting properly on her seat.

“Seatbelts, please” he says primly.

“I’ve never been so happy to hear you say this” Shireen murmurs.

“What’s wrong with you today?” her father asks, shooting her a stern glance from the rear-view mirror.

“It’s her first day of school too. And it’s also her last year. That’s always weird” Sansa explains. “I’m really curious to see what you’ll do when you have kids of your own” Sansa then says to Shireen, looking at her through the rear-view mirror. Her look is quizzical, but Shireen doesn’t detect any annoyance in it.

“Oh, I’m sending my kids to boarding school when they’re six months old. I’ll get them back when they’re eighteen; saves you from a lot of trouble, really” Shireen deadpans.

Sansa laughs, a genuine laugh of surprise and amusement.

“Should have done the same” Shireen’s dad mutters to himself.

“Joke’s on you, it’s too late now!” Shireen says triumphantly. 

Sansa turns to look at her husband, and he looks at her back. It only lasts for a few seconds, because he has to keep his eyes on the road, but it’s long enough for Shireen to catch it, in all its tenderness and devotion. Sometimes, even though she lives with these people, she forgets how wholly they are given to one another. And then there are glances like this to remind her, and wipe all other thoughts from her mind.

//

“No” Minisa says firmly as Steffon tries to fit a triangle peg in a square hole.

“Try another, Stanny” Shireen says, smiling at the expression of concentration on his sweet face.

“No” Minisa says again when Steffon tries to fit the triangle in a pentagon hole. She tries to snatch the triangle peg from him and he squeaks, extending his still chubby arms away from her.

“Behave yourselves, children” Shireen says. She’s lying on the plush carpet in the nursery room, where her siblings are playing, and she’s too lazy to get up. Thankfully Minisa is also too lazy to stand up and make another effort at stealing the triangle peg from her brother.

“No” she says again with conviction when Steffon finally fits the triangle in the right hole. _No_ is her favourite word, and she uses it even when she means yes, which can get very confusing at times.

“It looks like neither of you is a trigonometry genius” Shireen teases her siblings, who mostly ignore her. She doesn’t mind. It’s mid-September and she’s trying to enjoy being lazy before schoolwork starts piling up and occupying all of her time.

“Shireen?” Sansa calls from another room. “Did you get your period?”

“Um, no?” Shireen replies, a little puzzled by the question. Sansa doesn’t usually try to keep track of her periods. She doesn’t need to. When Shireen is on her period, everyone in the house knows.

“Are you sure?” Sansa asks again after a short pause.

“Uh, yeah, pretty sure” Shireen replies.

“Well I’m doing the laundry now, and there’s a stain in your underwear that looks like period blood a little” Sansa says as she enters the nursery.

“Really?” Shireen says a little absentmindedly. Her mind travels quickly to that first time she got her period, and Sansa had casually inspected her stained panties. It’s been a long time since she’s found discussing period stains with Sansa a weird thing.

Sansa shows her the panties in question. They have penguins on them, which means that they are the panties she was wearing yesterday. And now – too late – she figures out what she did yesterday that could create a period-like stain on her underwear.

Shireen can feel the blood draining from her face, only to quickly rush there again.

“Are you alright?” Sansa says, tilting her head.

“Um” Shireen says eloquently. She wishes she wasn’t such a dummy and had played along with the period story. Or that she would have looked at her stupid panties when she took them off last night, by the seven!

“Shireen, if you’re sure this isn’t your period, then perhaps we should see a gynecologist” Sansa says, a look of concern already present on her face.

Shireen gets on a sitting position, because she feels oddly vulnerable and stupid lying on the floor right now.

“No. Or maybe yes, I don’t know. I just- I – I had sex with Bran” she mumbles.

Sansa just stares at her for a moment. “Oh” she says then.

“So this is…” Shireen starts, her hand vaguely waving at her penguin panties as a way of explanation.

Sansa now stares at the panties she’s still holding. “Oh” she says again.

There had been no stains on Bran’s sheets. They had checked when it was all over. Shireen hadn’t been very surprised. She knows that not all girls bleed on their first time. 

She looks timidly at Sansa. She is staring at her again, but it’s not a vacant stare. Millions of thoughts seem to be crossing Sansa’s mind right now, her facial expression changing ever so slightly. 

“Sorry” Shireen says. She doesn’t know why she said that.

“Oh, don’t say that!” Sansa says, now smiling at her. “Was it your first time then?” she asks gently.

“Yeah”

“Are you… was it… Hm, do you want to talk about it?” Sansa asks carefully.

“What is there to talk about?” Shireen asks in honest surprise.

“Well…” Sansa starts, but trails off.

“We used protection, if that’s what you’re worried about” Shireen supplies then, her cheeks flushing a little bit more.

“Oh, I was sure you would” Sansa says, nodding emphatically. “I was just wondering if you want to talk about it”

“Er. Bran is your brother” Shireen awkwardly states the obvious. 

“Yes, of course” Sansa says quickly. It’s her turn to blush now. “I don’t need any details, Shireen. What I mean to say is, girls sometimes experience some strong and conflicting emotions after their first time”

“But it wasn’t… you know… bad” Shireen says confusedly.

“Even when the experience isn’t bad” Sansa insists. Shireen looks at her blankly. She doesn’t really understand what Sansa means.

“Do you want some hot chocolate?” Sansa asks then.

“Um, it’s still 30 degrees outside” Shireen points out. For a moment she is confused, but then she gets it. She bets that Catelyn made Sansa some hot chocolate when she had her first time. Somehow, the thought that Sansa is trying to do the same thing for her now is endearing and amusing at the same time.

“Some iced tea then” Sansa insists. She’s obviously determined to have this conversation.

“If we must” Shireen says reluctantly. She was hoping that when she finally told her mother and Sansa that she’s been having sex (Shireen is not having this conversation with her father, ever), the questions would only revolve around protection.

“Did it hurt?” Sansa asks –somehow still delicately- as she pours homemade ice tea in glasses. They’re sitting in the sunlit living room. The twins are playing with some very noisy toys, gifts from Uncle Robert that were brought down from the attic just for the occasion – Sansa probably doesn’t want her children to pick up words like sex and condoms just yet.

“Not really. I mean, I thought it would hurt more” Shireen admits as she uses her straw to stir the ice cubes in Sansa’s homemade brew of green tea, lemon zest and blueberries.

There was such an overload of senses between her legs, that Shireen doesn’t know how to describe the whole sex experience. She suspects her brain just stopped processing things very early on. On a physical level, it probably wasn’t the most fun she ever had. But on an emotional level… Her connection with Bran now feels deeper, more significant.

“That’s great” Sansa says sweetly. “And you feel… well?” she asks then for the third time in ten minutes.

“Um, again, why wouldn’t I?” Shireen responds with another question. She’s starting to get a little annoyed.

Sansa takes a sip of her tea, looking thoughtful.

“I understand that you had a good first experience” she says then and Shireen nods. “Which is a very good thing. But even so, girls often experience a sense of loss-”

“Yeah, I lost my virginity” Shireen interjects, though she keeps her voice down for the twins’ sake. Sansa’s gentle tone is urging her to be blunter.

“Yes” Sansa says with a small smile. “And that can make you feel a little sad”

Shireen snorts. “I’m not sad, I wanted to do it” she says.

“It’s still quite recent. Perhaps in a couple of days you will feel like crying for no reason-”

“I’m fine”

“-so if that happens, know it’s completely normal-”

“Sansa, I wanted to – to have sex!” Shireen says exasperatedly. “Why must I feel sad? Why must I cry? I’m quite happy about it actually!”

There is something in the gentleness, and something in the idea that Sansa had had a similar conversation with a doting Catelyn in a comfy, probably lavender-scented room with teal-coloured wallpapers, that gives Shireen the absurd urge to take her claws out, to make rough what is supposed to be soft, to scratch the pastel varnish in Sansa’s world. There haven’t been so many conversations so far that she would rather have with her mother first instead of Sansa, but this seems to be one of them.

“I’m not saying you must. I’m only saying that our minds are peculiar things. So don’t be confused if you experience conflicting feelings in the next few days” Sansa says calmly, unperturbed by Shireen’s outburst.

Shireen resists the urge to roll her eyes. Even in this weird emotional state, she understands she has no reason to be rude to Sansa. She’s only trying to help.

“It will get better” Sansa suddenly says, after a few moments of silent sipping.

“Huh, what?”

“You know what I mean. It’s always weird the first time around, even under the best of circumstances. But it gets better” Sansa explains, smiling serenely.

“Oh. Er, that’s cool” Shireen says.

“You can talk to me, you know” Sansa says then. “If you have any questions or concerns, you can always come to me”

“Um, thanks” Shireen manages. She would perhaps be a bit more open to the idea if Bran wasn’t Sansa’s brother.

They fall silent again.

“Do I have to visit a gynecologist now?”

“Well, now that you are… active, it’s not a bad idea” Sansa says thoughtfully.

“Oh. How do you choose one?” Shireen asks. She’s never had to choose a doctor. She’s always been going to doctors her parents knew.

“Word of mouth usually. You ask your girlfriends if they like their doctor. A lot of girls go to the same gynecologist as their mother” Sansa explains.

“Isn’t that weird?”

“Not really. I first went to my mother’s gynecologist, doctor Luwin. He helped her bring me into this world, like he did with my other siblings, so I always found it somewhat poetic. If you want, you can ask your mum who her doctor is” Sansa suggests.

“No” Shireen says quickly, shaking her head. Her mother doesn’t live in the city anymore. To Shireen it feels like she would be going to any random doctor.

“It’s not a bad idea, you know. It’s always smart to have a doctor who knows a bit of your family’s medical history” Sansa tells her carefully.

The word family sparks something in Shireen’s mind.

“Can I go to yours?” she asks shyly. Sansa looks at her for a moment, her eyes a little wider than usual.

“We don’t share any medical-”

“I know” Shireen says hastily, worrying that Sansa has misunderstood her. She knows they don’t share the same blood. But she feels comfortable with the idea of Sansa taking her to her doctor, and being there with her in their first meeting. It feels natural in a very instinctive way.

“I think I would like to go to yours anyway” she says. “If it’s alright” she adds as an afterthought.

“It’s quite alright” Sansa says, smiling one of her motherly smiles, the ones that make her look so much like Catelyn.

They hear the front door open then, and soon Shireen’s dad appears in the living room, briefcase in hand. A smile stretches the edges of his mouth when he sees them all in one room – his wife and all his children.

“What are my girls talking about?” he asks as he crosses the room to give a quick kiss to Sansa.

Shireen gives Sansa a look of panic, but she ignores her.

“Girl stuff” she says casually.

“Oh?” Shireen’s dad says and stops loosening his tie. There’s a look of confusion on his face – like he can’t decide whether he’s supposed to show interest or not, and whether he’s supposed to worry or not.

“Knitting” Shireen says then. It’s the first thing that comes to her mind. “Sansa might teach me how to knit”

“Oh” her father says again, and this time it signifies that everything has fallen into place again, in his world at least. “You know, that’s a great idea. Knitting is a good practical example of topology. It might get you more into math, who knows”

Shireen doesn’t even feel like rolling her eyes. She smiles, feeling rather fond of her father right now. He can be so clueless sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I kind of wrote a scene with Bran and Shireen's awkward first time, but eventually decided not to include it and keep the story PG and more focused on family. I am however thinking about starting a collection with missing moments from this story. So if you're interested in reading about our young lovers having awkward teen sex and many other random things from this verse, please let me know. :)


	28. age seventeen (part two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa wants to learn / Shireen learns to teach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm sorry it took such a long time to update this story... again. I'll try to post the next chapter in a couple of days to make it up!

“Hello” Shireen says cheerfully as she pokes her head in the living room. She can’t help but smile at the picture of domestic tranquility before her. Her father is sitting on the couch, checking things on his laptop. Sansa is sitting on the floor, her back resting against his legs, watching Steffon and Minisa who have taken over the coffee table with their arts and crafts.

“Hello there” Sansa says, looking up for a moment.

“I’m not late, am I?” Shireen says as she kicks off her shoes and comes inside. She’s just come back from Bran’s place.

“No, I haven’t even started dinner yet” Sansa replies as she hands Minisa more legos. 

Shireen sits next to Stanny, who is wholly concentrated on his crayon masterpiece. Unlike Minisa, he seems to enjoy colouring a lot. Shireen wonders where his artistic vein comes from – it’s certainly not the Baratheon blood in him, but on the other hand, she doesn’t think the Starks are very artistic either.

“So yeah, I’ve been thinking about it” Sansa says, continuing a conversation she must have been having with her husband before Shireen returned home.

“It’s a good idea, although I still think you have a lot on your plate right now, what with working again and the children being so young” Shireen’s dad says, fingers flying over the keyboard. “I know you get tired”

“Yes, but I also like it” Sansa says, turning her head to give him a reassuring smile. “Besides, you and Shireen are great help with the twins and the house”

“What’s up? Are you starting pottery classes or something?” Shireen asks as she takes a sheet of paper and some crayons for herself. Thankfully, Steffon doesn’t mind sharing. She’s not much of an artist, but she likes drawing doodles with the twins.

“It’s about the kids at school” Sansa says, getting on her knees to pick up a lego piece that Minnie has accidentally dropped – she knows too well how much those little devils hate bare feet.

“Ah” Shireen says. It’s a conversation they’ve had before.

Sansa loves her new job. Despite a couple of annoying colleagues and a much more limited budget, she finds her work a lot more rewarding, mainly thanks to her kids and their parents, who are in general more cooperative than the ones she had to deal with in the private school. The only problem is, at times, communication. Cobbler’s Square is a working class neighbourhood, and in the more recent years has been mostly populated by immigrants from places such as Lys, Myr and Pentos, who are not always fluent in English.

“The kids still insist on speaking in their own language sometimes” Shireen’s dad explains.

“I don’t think they do it on purpose. It’s their mother tongue, it’s natural that they think in it first, and sometimes they forget to switch to English” Sansa says, her back now resting again on her husband’s legs.

“I find it interesting that they forget to switch especially when they’re talking to one another, while there’s a lesson going on” her husband remarks, looking up from his laptop for a moment.

“It really isn’t so bad. I make it sound like they do it on purpose, but for the most part it’s accidental. At any rate, I’m mostly thinking about the parents. A lot of them speak very little English, and parent-teacher meetings can get really tricky” Sansa says.

“You didn’t learn any Valyrian at school?” Shireen asks.

“No, I only took French. A lot more romantic, I thought then. I love French, but if I had a crystal ball back then, I would have opted for Valyrian instead” Sansa says with a sigh.

“Sansa is thinking about learning some Valyrian now” Shireen’s dad says then.

“Seriously?” Shireen says with a laugh. She can’t imagine any of her own teachers going so above and beyond their duties, just to help out the students and their parents.

“Oh, don’t imagine I aspire to become fluent or anything like that. I don’t have the time or mental strength any more” Sansa says. “But I would like to learn some basic things. I think it would help a lot. And seeing as I’ll probably spend some time in this school…”

Shireen continues doodling thoughtfully. Next to her Stanny peeks at her paper from time to time, but he doesn’t seem to feel threatened by her artistic skills.

“Dad could teach you a couple of things. He’s very fluent in High Valyrian”

“We’ve discussed that option. It wouldn’t work for many reasons. I am far too busy to devise a lesson plan, and to tell the truth, I don’t think I would make a very good teacher” Shireen’s father says, finally setting his laptop aside. “Besides, I only speak High Valyrian. I have no knowledge of Low Valyrian, which is what these kids and their parents speak”

“You have a point there” Shireen says, turning back to her art. She fears that she draws worse now than she did at the age of five.

“Actually” her father says after a few moments of silence “we were thinking –that is, I was thinking- perhaps you could help Sansa out?”

Shireen looks up in surprise. Her father is looking at her with that look she assumes he reserves for business associates. Sansa is smiling hopefully, if not a little timidly.

“Me?”

“Yes. That is, only if you have enough time. We know this year’s a tough one” Sansa says hastily.

“But I’m just a schoolkid. Sure, I have good grades in Valyrian, but…”

“I have heard you speak the language with Renly, Shireen. You are very good. In fact, soon you’ll be better than him” her father says.

Shireen reddens a little and feels her heart swelling. There’s still something extra special about getting such compliments from her dad.

“Even so, that’s High Valyrian. You said it yourself, Sansa needs someone with Low Valyrian”

“But you’re good with Low Valyrian too. You watch all those shows, you listen to songs and read things online. You must be fairly competent” her father says. Shireen tries to focus on the actual issue and not get sidetracked from all the unexpected compliments.

“Passable, yes. But I’m mostly self-taught, and in no way as good as with High Valyrian” Shireen insists.

“Like I said, I only need very basic things. Just to be able to follow what is happening in the classroom, and to communicate with the parents more easily” Sansa says. Laptop set aside, Shireen’s dad has spread his legs a little, and Sansa has tucked herself between them, her head now resting lazily on his left knee.

Shireen eyes her.

“Are you sure?” she says eventually.

“Quite sure” Sansa replies with an encouraging smile. “You really don’t have to do this, it’s just a thought. If you think you don’t have enough time, or it doesn’t seem interesting to you, or you simply don’t want to do it, it’s absolutely fine”

“You can take your time to think about it” her father says.

Shireen chews on her bottom lip. She’s finally given up on her crayon doodles and is absentmindedly looking at Minnie and Stanny. It is true that she is good with High Valyrian – very good in fact. And for the last three years that she has tried to find the connections of the old language with its contemporary descendants, she has gotten better and better in Low Valyrian too. She is by no means perfect, but in three years she has improved a lot. The question is, could she teach? She is very good at learning, she has always been so. Teaching is something she has never tried. Although… she has at times helped Devan and Myrcella with schoolwork, and it was kinda fun. It was nice to be the one with the knowledge, and try to explain things to others. It was nice when the other person finally got it. It was nice to help someone unlock a little mystery. But… teaching a teacher? Sansa could see her faults immediately. She could see how bad she was at it. But then again… this is something new for Sansa. Something unknown. And she is always so nice. Shireen can’t imagine her pointing out all the mistakes Shireen might make.

“Alright” she says eventually. “We can give it a try if you want”

“Really? Thank you!” Sansa says. If she weren’t so comfy with her head on her husband’s knee and his hand on her shoulder, she would probably get up to hug Shireen.

“Excellent” Shireen’s dad says, looking rather pleased with himself.

Steffon pushes his paper away, a sign that his masterpiece is complete. They all peer over it curiously.

“What do you think it is this time?” Sansa says, looking at the mess of orange and green loops on the paper.

“Dunno. We should call it “Alienation” and put it next to “Wasteland 2.0” on the fridge” Shireen says.

//

They have a rocky start. On their first lesson, Shireen spreads her grammar books on the dining table, and after she shows Sansa the alphabet, she starts explaining to Sansa how verbs work in Valyrian. She’s trying to cover the basics of grammar, scrawling things on paper for Sansa to see, but after a while she stops, sensing something’s wrong.

“This isn’t working for you, is it?” she asks Sansa.

“Well. Don’t take this the wrong way. You’re doing a good job – for someone who wants to learn the language properly and needs a solid base of grammar and syntax for that. But for me… you know those little books with phrases in other languages? For people who want to get by in a foreign place but can’t or don’t want to learn the language properly. That’s the kind of lesson I need – some vocabulary, some basic phrases, even if I don’t understand the way they are constructed” Sansa explains.

“I’m sorry. This is the way I was taught, I don’t know any other way to do it” Shireen says awkwardly. She feels… a little disappointed in herself. She really did want to help Sansa. But the only way she knows how to learn is through thorough study, strictly from the basics to the advanced stuff, carefully proceeding to the next step only after securing the knowledge in the previous one. This jumbled way Sansa suggests is beyond her experience and imagination.

“You know, one of the most important skills for a teacher is to adapt. You’re doing well, Shireen. We just need to figure out a new way to do this, ok?” Sansa says encouragingly.

Shireen takes a few days to think about it, and figure out a new way to do the lesson. Eventually she accepts what she fears – that she will be fumbling in the dark, almost as much as Sansa. But if that’s what Sansa wants, then by all means, they should try it. So in their next lesson she teaches Sansa some very common phrases in low Valyrian and tries to practice a very simple dialog with her. In the end she gives Sansa a short list of words she thinks she might hear from her students, and asks her to try and identify them.

“How was that?” she asks, and she finds that she’s actually a little nervous.

“Much better. Thank you for doing this, Shireen” Sansa says with a warm smile.

Sansa’s positivity really encourages Shireen. Soon she realizes it’s not so much about learning a lot of things, but learning three or five things well. So she goes slowly, and patiently. Sansa is a busy woman, with a million thoughts going through her head all day long. Shireen can’t give her homework, or expect her to learn everything incredibly fast. So she goes back to things a lot, to revise and remind. The lessons become very informal the more time passes. Sansa often knits during them, the click-clack of the needles keeping the tempo to Shireen’s voice and sometimes if she’s busy, Shireen follows her around the house, practicing dialogue while Sansa is doing laundry or prepares food for the twins. Their limitations force Shireen to be more creative. She often plays music videos to Sansa with the lyrics on screen, or she plays short scenes from shows that she has chosen specifically for their easy vocabulary and clear pronunciation. And Sansa is great. Despite her busy schedule, she does her best with the lessons, always trying to give Shireen her undivided attention. She gives Shireen feedback on which of her methods help her the most, and sets the pace for each lesson with her questions and things she needs.

After a while, Shireen realizes she’s quite enjoying the lessons. She looks forward to the two days a week she gets to answer all of Sansa’s questions and teach her something new. Perhaps it’s the fact that it feels so much easier now, and she likes it when things are easy. Perhaps it’s that Sansa is making such steady progress, and Shireen can tell that this is partly thanks to her help. Perhaps…

“It’s because you’re so good at it. I’m the same way you know, I start liking things when I realize I’m good at them” Sansa says after the end of a lesson, as she puts her knitting things away.

“You really think I am?” Shireen says, blushing a little. She’s putting a lot of effort and care in this, and it’s really good to know it’s making a difference.

“You are very patient, and very diligent. You put the needs of the student first, but you don’t forget the lesson’s main objectives. Those are very good qualities for a teacher, Shireen” Sansa says seriously.

“I’m glad I could help” Shireen mumbles, feeling ridiculously pleased with herself.

//

“So? How did it go?” Shireen’s dad asks eagerly the moment Sansa gets in the living room. He’s taking off his glasses and he’s setting his laptop aside. Shireen is also closing her book. The twins are already in bed, and she and her dad were enjoying some quiet time in the living room while waiting for Sansa to get back from the parent-teachers meeting.

“Oh, it went very well!” Sansa says happily as she hugs her husband.

“No hiccups then?” Shireen asks curiously.

“No, not really. I stuck to English for the most part, but when I saw there was a problem, I’d use the vocabulary you’ve taught me and everything would become clear again. And it’s amazing how much more effort people make when they see you speak a little of their language!” Sansa says excitedly.

“Fantastic” Shireen says, feeling quite pleased.

“You’re the best teacher these kids and their parents could ever hope for” Shireen’s dad says to his wife, giving her a tender kiss on the cheek.

“I’m doing my best” Sansa says modestly. “But I couldn’t have done this without Shireen. You have been a great help, thank you so much” she adds, and gives Shireen a big hug.

“My pleasure” Shireen says with a laugh.

“You know, I think this pretty much proves that we’ve achieved our goal. I think we can stop now, and I’ll just come to you if I need to ask you something” Sansa says then.

“Oh, ok?” Shireen says a little surprised.

“I’m sure you’re glad you’ll have more free time again. Gods know you need it” Sansa says with a wink. “Right, I’m going upstairs to check on my babies and put on something more comfortable” she adds, and with that she leaves the room.

“She’s always so energetic after parent-teacher meetings. It’s all the adrenaline. She worries too much, and she cares too much” Shireen’s dad says fondly, as if Shireen has never seen Sansa after a meeting before. 

“But tonight she looks more happy than stressed” he says then, turning to her. “Thank you for helping her with the language lessons, Shireen. Thank you for taking it so seriously. Are you alright?”

Shireen forces herself to smile, reassuring her dad she’s fine. She doesn’t know what’s wrong with her. She should be happy – she helped Sansa achieve her goal, both her dad and Sansa think she did a good job, and now that Sansa won’t need any more lessons, she will have more free time for herself. And yet, she can’t help but feel a little disappointed and see the coming days as a little emptier now that there won’t be any lessons to prepare.

//

Two days later, she’s on her laptop when her eye catches the folder on her search engine’s sidebar where she keeps all the links she’d been using for her lessons with Sansa. She stares at it without really seeing it, vaguely thinking that she should probably delete it now she’s not going to be using it anymore.

In the end she doesn’t.


	29. age seventeen (part three)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shireen gets protective

Shireen refuses to have a graduation party, despite Sansa’s eagerness to organize one. It would be very nice, yes, and the garden looks absolutely stunning during this time of the year and it would be lovely to hold a party there, but she simply doesn’t want one. She has countless of photos from birthday parties where she is crying her eyes out over her birthday cake just because she can’t handle all the attention. Of course, she’s learned to control her tear ducts since the age of five, but increased amounts of attention still make her feel awkward. Plus, her mother is insisting to throw a small party for her when she gets to Brightwater, and one party is one too many.

In the end there is a compromise. Myrcella is having a graduation party, and she convinces Shireen to basically throw it together at uncle Robert’s house. Shireen accepts because she knows that everything that is shared with Myrcella tends to turn into Myrcella’s thing in the end.

It’s a beautiful, bright Saturday. Shireen squints a little against the sun, wishing she hadn’t left her sunglasses at home. The garden is packed. All of the Baratheons and Starks, along with a lot of Myrcella’s friends are there. Seeing as a lot of those are also Shireen’s friends from school, the only people she had left to invite were Devan and his parents. She can spot Devan now somewhere near the swimming pool, talking animatedly with Bran. She’s still not sure how they’ve become such good friends. Other than an interest in sports –practical on Devan’s part and entirely theoretical on Bran’s- they have little else in common.

“I’m surprised you didn’t make valedictorian, little princess” Davos tells her with a fond smile, pulling her out of her thoughts. “You’ve always been an excellent student, and much more consistent than Devan”

“It’s impossible for everyone to be at the top, Davos” Marya says carefully, probably thinking that the comment isn’t very tactful.

“I’m glad I wasn’t made” Shireen says truthfully, sipping at her iced tea. “I wouldn’t like it, really”

“I remember when Shireen was little. She used to race me to the next floor of wherever we were going, when we were taking the stairs” Shireen’s dad says. He’s talking to Davos and Marya, but isn’t looking at them; instead his eyes are on Robert and Ned at the other side of the garden, playing with Steffon and Minisa. 

“You used to beat me every time, of course” he says then, his eyes turning to Shireen. “And yet, you used to always shout “second!” when you reached the landing”

Shireen smiles at him. She remembers that and she’s pleasantly surprised her dad remembers it too.

“She never wanted to be first in anything. But I have found, that very often you can do a lot of things, even if you’re not in the first place for anything” he adds then to Davos and Marya.

“To be sure, being first means very little most of the time” Davos says pleasantly.

“Unless you’re sperm, in which case it means freaking everything” Myrcella mutters amusedly in Shireen’s ear. Shireen almost jumps – it’s like Myrcella has materialized out of thin air.

“Sorry, I’m going to steal her for a moment” her cousin says cheerfully and drags her away from her dad and the Seaworths, then waves to a boy their age to approach them.

“This is Trystane” she tells Shireen when the boy approaches them, and by the way she wiggles her eyebrows, Shireen can guess that Trystane is this month’s lucky secret boyfriend. Uncle Robert still doesn’t know that Myrcella is dating – apparently he is determined to see her as a ten-year-old for the rest of her life.

“Hi” Trystane says, giving his hand to Shireen. He has a firm handshake, a light tan and very white teeth. He is conventionally handsome, exactly Myrcella’s type and indistinguishable from the dozens of boyfriends she’s had in the past.

“It was about time the two of you met. I’ve been telling Trystane, Shireen, that-” Myrcella says, but she gets interrupted by someone who’s calling her over. “I’ll be back in a minute”

Shireen and Trystane are left alone, awkwardly trying to make small talk until Myrcella returns. Shireen doesn’t really see the point. It won’t be long before Trystane is shown the door.

“You’re the cousin, right?” Trystane says. “How long do you think it will take Myrcella to tell her dad about us? I’ve asked her but she never gives me a straight answer”

“Oh… I don’t know about that” Shireen says awkwardly. So far she’s managed to stay out of Myrcella’s tempestuous love life, and she’d like to keep it this way.

“I mean, look at her dad. He can’t be that bad really!” Trystane says, gesturing towards uncle Robert. He is currently throwing Steffon in the air, laughing thunderously as Shireen’s little brother squeals and Ned claps Minisa’s little hands. She has to admit, he does look completely harmless at this moment.

“I’m sure Myrcella knows what she’s doing” she says diplomatically. She doesn’t bother to tell Trystane that this omission is mostly for her unlce’s own good, and not so much for Trystane’s.

“He looks completely harmless, especially compared to that guy over there!” Trystane insists, and points at Shireen’s dad, who’s scowling at uncle Robert. He probably doesn’t find the haphazard throwing of his son in the air all that amusing.

“That’s my father” Shireen says with a laugh.

“Is he? Then I feel bad for your boyfriend!” Trystane says, laughing at his own joke.

“They’re getting along just fine, actually” Shireen says curtly. 

“And is that… your sister next to him?” Trystane asks then.

Shireen looks back to her dad. Next to him she only sees Sansa in a pretty floral sundress, smiling at her husband as she chews on some cucumber sticks she picked from the buffet. If she had a penny for every time people thought Sansa was her sister…

“That’s my stepmother” Shireen corrects Trystane flatly. The word still feels strange on her tongue, even after four years. The truth is she seldom uses it. 

“ _Oh._ I get it” Trystane says, and Shireen wouldn’t have paid any attention if there wasn’t a kind of confidentiality in his tone.

“What?” she says with a frown.

“Oh, nothing. I just get it” Trystane says, still the confidential tone in his voice.

“You get _what?_ ” Shireen asks impatiently.

“You know, the whole family thing. Divorced parents. Younger stepmother. I get it” he says, pulling a face between pain and sympathy. 

“Right” Shireen says. She’s not quite sure where this conversation is going.

“My parents are divorced too” he adds, as if that explains everything. “Thankfully, neither of them remarried”

“Good for them I guess, if they didn’t find the right person. But my father has. Sansa is great, actually” Shireen says coolly.

“Oh” Trystane says, clearly surprised.

Shireen sighs. When she was in primary school, she was one of the very few kids with divorced parents. By the end of middle school, half of her classmates’ parents had gotten a divorce. And even then, stepfathers and stepmothers where regarded as mythical, possibly scary creatures.

“What did you think? We’re not in a brothers Grimm tale. The stepmother is not evil, and she’s never offered me a poisoned apple” Shireen says annoyed. 

“Yes, yes, of course” Trystane says hurriedly, laughing awkwardly with her little joke. “Sorry. That’s… very cool. Awesome”

“Sansa has been part of my life for seven years now” Shireen says and as she says it she marvels at how small the number is – it feels like Sansa has _always_ been around. “I wouldn’t be the same without her. Stepparents can be just as good as parents”

“How come you don’t call her "mother" then?” Trystane says, estimating rather optimistically that he has repented enough for his previous blunder.

“Call her "mother"?” Shireen says incredulously.

“Yeah. If she’s so important to you and all” Trystane says. Shireen can’t tell if he’s actively trying to make her dislike him, or he simply has zero people skills.

“I can’t call her "mother". I already have a mother” Shireen says flatly.

“I don’t see why that matters, if she’s important to you” Trystane says. Shireen looks at him incredulously. It almost feels like he’s questioning her love for Sansa.

“Well” she says, and then stops. She wouldn’t know where to begin to explain to him why she could never call Sansa “mother”. There is the age factor of course. As motherly as Sansa is, and as much as she might consider Shireen a daughter of sorts, it is impossible to ignore their very small age difference. However much Shireen loves Sansa, she will never be able to see her as the authority figure that her father is. And then, there’s her mother. Her actual mother. She might be far away, she might miss big moments from Shireen’s life, and they might not always see eye to eye. But she’s still her mother, the woman who brought her into the world and was her primary caretaker up until the age of thirteen. She’s the only mother she’ll ever have and to call another woman mother –however much she might love that other woman- it smacks of disrespect to her. And there’s something else, something that has been at the back of Shireen’s mind for some time now. To call someone your stepparent -your stepmother or stepfather- well, it’s not that you don’t love them enough, or recognize what they’ve done for you. Quite the opposite, actually. To her, the title of stepmother… it’s almost like a badge of honour, something you gain, or better, something you’re awarded with because you’re doing such a great job. It’s not demeaning. It’s not disregarding. It’s praise.

She feels angry suddenly, annoyed by Trystane’s assumptions and patronizing. She opens her mouth, ready to give him a piece of her mind. And then she closes it again, and just walks away. She doesn’t owe Trystane anything, especially an apology for the way her family is.

She walks quickly to the empty back garden. She knows she looks upset and she doesn’t want anyone to see her, especially her father and Sansa. She feels angry, but also foolish for letting something silly affect her like this.

“Hey. What did Flavor-of-the-month tell you to make you storm off like that?”

Shireen turns her head. Renly and Loras have followed her, approaching her at a lazy pace.

“Nothing. I’m just being a bit stupid”

“Alright. Nothing new there” Loras says as he and Renly sit down next to her.

They stay silent for a few moments, before Shireen finally speaks again.

“How can people make such ignorant assumptions about people they know _nothing_ about?” she says indignantly.

Renly and Loras look at each other.

“Oh, sweet summer child” Renly says, smiling. For once he’s not teasing, looking at her with soft eyes instead.

“That’s all people ever do, Shireen. Better get used to it” Loras says calmly.

“What, and just let them say things that are stupid and wrong?” Shireen says.

“What is this about?” Renly asks.

“Sansa. Flavor-of-the-month was saying stupid things about stepparents” 

“Ah. And what did you tell him?”

“Nothing. I just walked away” Shireen admits, her cheeks colouring a little. Perhaps she _should_ have said something.

“Ha! Brava!” Renly and Loras say, laughing.

Shireen looks at them incredulously.

“This is the last thing I expected of you – commending me for _not_ saying something!”

“Honestly, Shireen, I like telling people off as much as the next person-”

“Actually more than the next person” Loras corrects his husband with a smile.

“-probably, yes, but when you hear a ton of stupid things each day, you don’t have the time to put everyone in their place”

“It’s a matter of self-preservation” Loras says.

“You can’t _always_ ignore people’s stupidity” Shireen insists.

“No, but in most cases you’re wasting your breath trying to explain to them why they’re wrong” Loras says patiently.

“Learn to pick your battles” Renly adds, nodding his head in agreement. “Plus, sometimes ignoring idiots is a lot more infuriating to them than just picking up a fight”

“It’s just not fair to Sansa, or dad” Shireen sighs.

“Shireen, Stannis and Sansa have created the happiest, sanest family I know of. Do you really think they care what random idiots at parties say? They’ve already won the game” Renly says seriously.

Shireen can't help but smile a little. Renly likes to tease her father about all sorts of things, but in this moment it's clear to her he loves his older brother a lot. It's nice to see him talk so passionately about him, rare as it is.

“Still, your concern is commendable” Loras says, smiling sweetly. “I do hope you’re showing the same dedication when you hear someone badmouthing your uncles”

“Nah, usually I’m the one who’s doing the badmouthing” Shireen says, forcing herself to make a joke.

“Gods, look at her!” Renly says, too amused to even pretend to be offended. “Loras, I think we did something right with her and Myrcella”

“Our cynical babies” Loras says affectionately.

They both draw Shireen in a big hug, which somehow makes things a little better.

When they return to the garden, she searches for her father and Sansa with her eyes. They have reclaimed their children from Ned and uncle Robert, and are now holding their hands as they walk around the swimming pool. The twins are pointing at things, always trying to get closer to the water, but their parents keep them safe and dry. Their eyes are focused on their children, but every so often they will divert, rising up and finding each other, content smiles on their faces.

Shireen shakes her head a little. Renly was right – her father and Sansa don’t need her to protect them, or get offended on their behalf. They’re the happiest couple she knows, and that says a lot given that she knows couples like Renly and Loras, Ned and Catelyn, and Davos and Marya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be up at some point after new year. Until then, happy holidays to everyone! <3


	30. age seventeen (part four)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shireen goes to prom

“Well, what do you think?” Sansa says, eagerly awaiting Shireen’s verdict. She can see her through the mirror, biting her bottom lip, curling iron still in one hand.

“It looks amazing, thank you” Shireen says quickly, smiling at her brightly.

Sansa smiles back, clearly pleased with her work. Shireen is pleased too – her thanks are entirely honest. Sansa did a fantastic job – the makeup is tasteful and discreet, and her hair looks beautiful in shiny, loose curls. It is a polished up version of herself that she sees in the mirror, but the point is that it’s still her.

It is late afternoon, and golden sunrays come in almost horizontally through her bedroom windows. It is the day of her prom, and the truth is, she is now getting a little excited, even though she played it cool until now. Sansa never played it cool, and this time Shireen gave in and let her go a little crazy with the prom and help her out with everything from choosing a dress and accessories to volunteering to do her hair and makeup (Shireen refused to go to a hairdresser), to giving her tips as to how to fix her makeup when it inevitably starts melting off her face.

Shireen had a minimal interest in all that, but she played along with a mix of amusement and patience. It was only after the shared graduation party with Myrcella that she realized just how important that day had been to her father and Sansa, and how they must have felt a little disappointed they couldn’t throw a party for her. To her, her graduation didn’t mean much – big deal, everyone graduates, it’s not even that hard. But for some reason her parents were extremely proud of her, and their pride was touching. Prom was a way to make amends, with Sansa at least.

Sansa has turned off the curling iron, but she hasn’t moved from Shireen’s side. Shireen hasn’t moved either. They’re done, but she’s reluctant to accept it. She remembers being thirteen or so and being in her old room in the apartment and Sansa making her hair for Loras and Renly’s wedding. Back then she still felt a little awkward being alone with Sansa, not really knowing what to say or do, but now she relishes the chance to have her all to herself. Minnie and Stanny are downstairs, well away from hot irons, hairsprays and tiny hairpins that they could swallow, and Shireen is almost smug that she’s stolen their mum for a short while. It’s a little childish perhaps, but she does enjoy having Sansa’s undivided attention once again, because now she can appreciate it more.

“You look so beautiful” Sansa says softly.

The only reason that Shireen’s eyes get a little watery is that she gets attacked by a cloud of hairspray without any warning the next minute.

She supposes that her eyes haven’t gotten over the irritation from that toxic cloud when she and Sansa finally go downstairs and her dad sees her in full prom getup for the first time. Yes, that’s why they’re still watery. She gets another flashback from being thirteen and showing her dad the dress she and Sansa had chosen for Loras and Renly’s wedding. She doesn’t think she’ll ever forget the look on his eyes then – the pleasant surprise and approval. It’s a little different now as he rises from the couch he’s sharing with Bran and the twins. There isn’t much surprise anymore, but there’s still approval and perhaps even pride, though Shireen still doesn’t know what her accomplishment is.

“You look… lovely” her father says in an almost comically serious tone, but then he squeezes her arm gently and gives her a kiss on top of her head, probably getting a taste of the nasty hairspray.

“Thank you” Shireen whispers, feeling a little stupid for feeling so chuffed.

“You’re alright” Bran says casually, winking at her behind her father.

“Shuddup” Shireen says, rolling her eyes, but she’s thankful for his silly joke because it’s helped to diffuse a sentimental moment. “You’re relatively presentable too” she adds, smiling at him.

The truth is that he looks quite dapper in his new suit, matched of course with his cane. Bran had skipped his own prom in favour of going fishing with Jojen that day, but for some reason he has taken warmly to the idea of going with Shireen to her own prom. Shireen’s guess is that perhaps he regretted pretending to be all cynical and miss his last chance to create a common memory with his classmates.

“This is for you” Bran says then, and produces a plastic box. Shireen has almost forgotten about the corsage.

“Where on earth did you find a corsage with buttercups?” she asks incredulously.

“Special order” he says with a grin. Despite his cheeky smile, his hands fumble as he tries to put the corsage on her wrist, and Shireen is struck with the thought that this whole thing – the dressing up, the formality – it’s all too childishly make-believe and too adult at the same time.

“Oh, I almost forgot; Myrcella texted me and said she’s ready, so we should go pick her up” Bran says then.

“You’re not going anywhere before we take pictures” Sansa says excitedly, brandishing a camera.

“Pictures! I wanna!” Minisa says immediately, scrambling to her feet. Unlike her brother, who is either oblivious or uninterested in the whole affair, and though she doesn’t understand the details, Minisa has somehow understood that today is an important day, so she’s wearing her princess dress and her plastic tiara since morning. In her simple midnight blue and above the knee dress Shireen feels almost underdressed compared to her baby sister.

“In a moment, Minisa” Shireen’s dad says and nods to Bran to take the camera. He seems rather amused by the excitement of both his daughter and his wife, but he looks at them affectionately.

Bran decides that the fireplace is the best backdrop for the pictures, so Shireen, her dad and Sansa stand in front of it, while Bran displays some great balancing skills as he’s standing on one leg and uses the other one to keep Steffon and Minisa from invading the frame.

The framed puzzle of the Kiss, Shireen’s wedding present to her father and Sansa is hanging over the fireplace, and the mantelpiece is full of framed pictures of the family: A picture of the Baratheon brothers in their youth, a picture from her uncles’ wedding, a picture from her father’s and Sansa’s wedding, that dreadful first picture from the Aquarium all those years ago, pictures with the twins on their birthday and so on. Big and small moments of family life framed in wood and metal.

As Bran takes a picture, Shireen thinks that this one will probably go on the mantelpiece as well. And one day – one day there will be a picture with Minisa’s and Steffon’s prom day too, and perhaps it will be Shireen behind the camera. She looks at Minnie’s little hands grasping the pink tulle of her dress and she wonders how her sister will feel on a day like this, many years from now, but mostly she wonders how she herself will feel. She may have finally discovered the source of pride so evident in her father’s and Sansa’s eyes, and perhaps Minnie and Stanny will also wonder why their parents and older sister look at them like that. And it’s this sense of continuation, the idea that she is bound to experience the same situation but from a different point of view, that makes her feel closer to adulthood than ever.

//

Myrcella’s laugh and Bran’s kisses follow her out of the car, in the warm summer night. She waves at them as they drive away, taking her heels off with her other hand and almost losing her balance in the process. By the time she finds it again, Bran’s car has vanished and she is left alone in the dark front lawn. All the windows of the house are dark, but she knows very well that neither her father nor Sansa would go to sleep before making sure she’s home so she takes a guess and walks barefoot to the back of the house, a carefree sway on her steps. She is grinning to herself, still overwhelmed by the excitement of the night.

She finds her father and Sansa in the garden, sitting on comfy lawn chairs next to each other, their hands linking them together as they gaze at the night sky.

“Forty-five to one” her father says, checking his watch, when they hear her approach them. “Remind me to congratulate Bran”

“What, for bringing me back before I turn into a pumpkin?” Shireen says rolling her eyes.

“Say what you like, but I like a man who keeps his word” her father says pointedly.

Shireen doesn’t pursue the matter further as she drags her own chair close to that of Sansa’s. She finds her father’s insistence to return at a reasonable time a little laughable – whatever it is that he thinks he’s prevented by ensuring she won’t be out past a certain hour has already happened dozens of times in the light of day in the tiny apartment Bran shares with Jojen. But she doesn’t want to disturb his blissful ignorance, or his opinion that Bran is a gentleman.

“So how was it? Prom?” Sansa asks, clearly very interested. 

“It was fun” Shireen says laconically, smiling as she catches leaves of grass between her toes. She’ll have to give her feet a thorough wash before she goes to bed, but for now she’s quite happy to feel the warm earth underneath. 

It really was fun, prom, even though she’d never been the kind of girl that spent half her teen years fantasizing about it. She’d gone with Bran and Myrcella, who for once was single, and the three of them had spent the night alternating between dancing and cackling at their inside jokes when they were sitting at their table to rest. It had been joyous and carefree, and though Shireen’s body is still buzzing with energy and satisfaction, she feels the edges of her mouth turning down and her heart getting a little heavier.

“Are you tired?” Sansa asks, always so perceptive.

“No, not really” Shireen says, too caught up in her thoughts to grab the excuse offered to her.

“You don’t look all that happy” Sansa presses on gently. “Was there any drama in the prom? There was some in mine…”

“Oh no, absolutely zero. Or at least I didn’t notice anything” Shireen says, squinting. She can see Voldetort slowly making his way to her from the other side of the garden.

“Then what is it?” her father asks. Sansa’s questions have alerted him to Shireen’s downcast expression, and unlike his wife he has no patience or interest in gentle prodding.

Shireen stays silent for a moment, trying herself to put her finger on her sudden melancholy. The newly formed memory of her, Myrcella and Bran hugging each other by the shoulders, sweaty foreheads close together and practically shouting at each other the lyrics of a song they all like, floats in her mind.

“It’s all going to change now, isn’t it?” she finally says, and she’s entirely aware of the slight crack in her voice.

Her father and Sansa exchange a quick look. They know what this is about.

They had all received their acceptance letters in the span of the last week. Myrcella was going to Dorne to study at the Sunspear University. Devan would be studying in Dragonstone on a sports scholarship. Bran would be going all the way up to Hardhome. And Shireen would stay home, to study in the very prestigious KLU – King’s Landing University. They were all going to scatter across Westeros, and she would be alone, save for Jojen.

“Oh, Shireen” Sansa says softly. 

“It’s ok” Shireen says quickly, eyes focused on Voldetort’s slow, yet steady advance. She almost regrets speaking out.

She has known for a while that this was probably going to happen. Myrcella wants to be away – away from uncle Robert who still thinks her his little girl, and away from aunt Cersei who also has her own very specific ideas of who Myrcella is, or ought to be. Devan has wanted to go to Dragonstone for a long time, because all his brothers had studied there too, and Bran wants to go to Hardhome because of their history department’s focus on westerosi pre-history. Shireen can’t blame any of them. Perhaps if she was leaving too, starting an adventure somewhere new she wouldn’t be so worried about all this. It just all seems more real now, with the papers that came on the mail.

“Change isn’t always bad. It’s a necessary part of life” her father says sagely.

“It’s scary at first, to start something new. But you’ll see, it will be exciting too. You’re going to meet so many new people and try so many new things, you’ll hardly have time to think about anyone else” Sansa says encouragingly.

“But… I don’t want to forget them. I don’t want us to grow apart” Shireen says, finally articulating her fear. Bran in particular, and the promise they’ve made to each other swirl through her mind.

“You will still see everyone on the holidays and in the summer. I hardly think you’ll have enough time to forget them” her father says firmly.

“But if it happens? If they meet people they fit better with?” Shireen insists. _And if I do too?_ She thinks.

“I think you have no reason to worry” Sansa says soothingly.

“How many childhood friends do you still keep in touch with?” Shireen asks her and her father.

“Well…” they start immediately, and then they stop, frowning.

“I thought so” Shireen says glumly.

“Listen, it’s true that I didn’t meet Davos until going to university, but look how long it’s been since then, and we’re still friends even though we haven’t always lived in the same place or done the same things. Distance isn’t everything, Shireen. Good friendships last despite obstacles” her father says thoughtfully.

“And no one says that if you drift away with someone you can never get close again. Look at me and my friend Jeyne – we were inseparable as kids, but grew apart when we went to high school, and now we’re back to being close friends. The people that matter, they always find a way back into our lives, Shireen. Nothing is set in stone” Sansa says gently.

Shireen nods her head, eyes still fixed on Voldetort. She’s suddenly afraid that if she looks at Sansa or her father, she’s going to tear up.

“I’m still going to miss them” she says, as if that ever was up to debate.

“It’s good to have people to miss” her father says. Sansa takes his hand in hers, her thumb rubbing circles on his knuckles. She smiles a small smile to him, something that is entirely theirs.

“And we’ll be here for you. We’re not going anywhere” she tells Shireen, a different smile for her.

“Well you better be! I’m quite attached to you, guys” Shireen says dryly.

Voldetort has finally reached her, and she lifts him on her lap. She raises her eyes to the night sky. The few stars are shining a pale light on the purplish canopy above. The moon is not out yet.

She has her parents and her siblings, a remotely affectionate turtle, true friends and the almighty power of skype. It’s all going to be fine, she thinks, one way or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter for age seventeen. Age eighteen is the last one I will be writing, and I've given myself a deadline - I must have it all finished and posted before the end of February. So stay tuned, the story is coming to an end!


	31. age eighteen (part one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stannis gives some advice to Shireen / He also gives some advice to Robert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one turned out bigger than I expected and the more I tried to contain it the bigger it grew, so eventually I just gave up. Enjoy! :)

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Stannis look more like a plebeian” Renly observes, half-amused, half-appalled.

“Maybe it’s a fashion statement” Loras suggests.

“Will you two cut it off? It’s just clothes” Shireen’s dad barks at them.

“Clothes Renly wouldn’t get caught dead wearing” Loras says, ignoring his brother-in-law’s tone. Renly nods in agreement.

“Renly wouldn’t get caught dead doing a lot of things” Shireen’s dad grumbles.

“Yeah, like any sort of manual work for example” Shireen adds.

“See, I get the feeling you’re saying that as an insult, and I don’t understand why” Renly says, grinning at her.

Shireen’s dad murmurs something about people overstaying their welcome. Loras and Renly dropped by to bring the jacket Shireen had forgotten at their place a couple of days ago, yet somehow they ended up making coffee for themselves, eating some of Sansa’s home-made cookies, and are now hopping around the garden hunting for Pokémon.

“So you’ve chosen all your subjects for this semester?” her father asks, ignoring the presence of his brother and brother-in-law. He’s on his knees, patting the soil on the sunflower patch with gloved hands. Shireen hums in affirmation.

“Pass me the shears, will you?” he says then, getting back on his feet.

It’s a cloudy Sunday morning. Sansa has taken the twins to Winterfell for the day, but Shireen and her dad stayed home instead. Ever since Bran moved away for his studies, Winterfell has lost some of its appeal to her. And her father needs to get some work done, like he often does. But before that, there is work to be done in the garden.

Renly likes to joke that the garden is Stannis and Sansa’s third baby – they’re taking extreme care of it. There is a gardener who comes every once in a while to do the heavier work, but a lot of the pruning, watering, planting and fertilizing is done by Shireen, her dad and Sansa. In the few years they’ve been living here, the garden has truly transformed with their love and nurture.

Shireen passes her father the shears and watches as he starts pruning the wilted sunflower stems. He’s scowling as if he’s disappointed in them, even though it’s perfectly normal for sunflowers to wilt around autumn. He’s wearing worn gardening gloves and an older pair of shirt and trousers that he obviously doesn’t care much about tearing or mudding up. Shireen is always fascinated by this getup. She rarely gets to see her father in such casual wear. It looks strange on him, but also fitting in a weird way, whatever Renly says.

“And you are not taking economics after all?” he asks her, as he snips the stems with purpose.

“No” she says, shuffling her feet. What an odd thing, she thinks. There’s nothing to feel guilty about!

“You don’t like it much” her father says. It’s more of a statement than a question.

“No, not really” Shireen agrees. She’s always been a good student. She’s always gotten good grades in everything. And even though she’s always had a thirst for learning, now that she has more of a choice on what she studies, she looks at her subjects and thinks: do I want to be studying this for four years? Is this what I want to become?

They fall silent for a while, her father going on with the pruning. They both know what her subject choices mean. If she doesn’t take economics now, it’s not very likely she will graduate with a business degree. And if she doesn’t do that, she probably won’t become the CEO of the Baratheon company one day.

“You have time to think about those things. You can always change your mind. And there are lots of other things to be done in the company. Many different departments. Finances, legal, design, PR, HR…” her father says, stacking the sorry-looking pruned stems. Shireen is about to put them in a black trash bag, but she stops.

“What if… what if I never want to do any of those things? What if I don’t want or can’t find anything to do in the company?” she asks uncertainly.

The company started as a family business, and the family is still at the helm. It has never been discussed explicitly, but it has always been assumed that at some point, the next generation is going to take over. Tommen, Myrcella, Shireen. Steffon and Minisa one day too. 

“I’m not like Myrcella” she adds.

Her father, who has been shoving the pruned stems in the trash bag since Shireen is not doing it, stops and stares at her for a moment.

“Myrcella?” he says in surprise, the mention of his niece distracting him from what Shireen just said. “She’s always been going on about how she’s going to be a model or a singer or an actress – a superstar at any rate”

“That was when we were kids, dad” Shireen says with a wan smile.

“I never thought she had much of a head for business” her father says, still disbelieving.

“Clearly you’ve never played Monopoly with her” Renly cuts in.

“Yeah, she might look all bubbly and fun-loving, but that girl is razor-sharp, and when she wants something she gets it. Don’t let her fool you, she’s already got the whole world fooled” Loras affirms.

Shireen hums. Despite her childhood dreams, her cousin has somehow always known where she’s supposed to end up, unlike Shireen. To her, the company has always been Dad’s Work. She doesn’t even know exactly what it is that her father does there – she never got curious enough to find out. Whenever she has visited the offices, she has thought of them as Dad’s Workplace, and that perception has not changed much from the age of five to eighteen. Somehow, she has failed to see the connection, the line of inheritance that has always been so clear to Myrcella.

“Shireen, you are not obligated to work there” her father says then, finally absorbing what Shireen said. “You know very well that I despise nepotism and I am a firm believer in meritocracy. I never expected you to sweep in and take my place once I retire. In fact, you will not get any place in the company just because your name is Baratheon. If you got any position, you would get it with your own worth – of which I have no doubt”

“But you did think I might want to work there, then?”

“I thought it very likely. It’s more than natural for people to want to be part of the family business, to improve it and accumulate more family wealth. But if this isn’t something that interests you, it’s alright” her father says calmly.

“Really?” she can’t help but say. His ease surprises her. Usually Sansa is the receptive one, and he requires some convincing, regardless of the subject.

“Of course. There are so many other things to do. Is there something you have in mind?” 

She shrugs. She had never wanted to be a star, like all the other girls. She had been aware of her limitations from the very start. Her dreams had always been a little more unusual. For a long time she had wanted to be an archaeologist, and discover more of the ruins of the old Rhoynar kingdom. Once she had made a pact with Devan that they would become pilots and fly planes together. And when she was nine, she had watched a documentary and for a whole year she had wanted to become an anthropologist, mistakenly thinking that she would get to discover pre-historic skeletons all the time and put them together. But now…

“I have no idea” she says truthfully, though she also feels a little ashamed. She has classmates who dream of becoming doctors and lawyers and engineers, who already work towards achieving those goals. Her own close friends already know what they want – Myrcella studies business, Devan wants a degree in sports science, and Bran, after working in that animal shelter for a year, has now turned to more cerebral activities, finally committing to his passion for history. But she doesn’t dream of anything specific. She’s passionate about learning, but she’s not passionate about learning just one thing, not yet.

“It is ok not to know what you want to do” her father says in an uncommonly gentle tone. “It’s almost impossible to know what you want to study and what career you want to follow when you hardly know yourself at that age” he muses.

“Did you know you wanted to go to business school and do this job when you were my age?” she asks him curiously. She has rarely heard him speak of his youth – whenever it’s happened it’s thanks to Sansa’s gentle prodding.

“I… suppose I did. I felt that my place was in the company, if that’s what you mean”

“And you never wanted to be an astronaut, or a lion tamer, or anything like that?” she insists.

“Those are the dreams of children, not wishes for reality” her father says, but when he sees her disappointment, he adds “Though I did want to be a ship captain at some point”

Shireen smiles, trying to imagine her dad in a captain’s uniform.

“Don’t worry too much about your studies, yes? You still have time to think about it. In any case, the most important thing is that you choose to study things you like. You’re in a very good university, so make the best of it” her father says, shoving the last of the pruned stems in the trash bag.

Shireen nods. She’d love to have it all figured out. But for the moment being, she’s happy that he doesn’t worry about her and her indecisiveness. 

They stand for a few moments looking at the patch of dirt, with the shortened stems sticking out of the soil. It looks empty now, but the sunflowers will grow again in the spring.

“Hey, there’s a very realistic Turtwig here!” Renly hollers from the other side of the garden. Loras goes over to take a look.

“That’s just Voldetort, Renly”

//

“Would you like some coffee, Robert?” Sansa asks with a sweet smile as she gets up from the table and starts gathering the dishes.

“Or maybe to call you a taxi?” Shireen’s dad says in a low grumble that his brother either doesn’t hear or chooses to ignore.

“Coffee would be great, thank you, Sansa. And the food was great” he says, smacking his lips.

“At least do something useful if you’re intending to stay longer” Shireen’s dad says through gritted teeth.

“You can go upstairs to check on Stanny and Minnie and then go to the living room while we clean the table” Shireen says when her father and Sansa leave the dining room for the kitchen with plates on their hands.

“Don’t mind if I do” her uncle says cheerfully.

Shireen heads for the kitchen too, salad bowl and water pitcher in her hands.

“…try and be a little nicer to him” Sansa’s voice carries in the corridor, making Shireen stop right outside the kitchen and peek inside from the corner. Eavesdropping is a bad habit, but it’s not one she has gotten around shaking completely.

“It’s the third time this week he’s invited himself over for dinner. This is getting ridiculous” Shireen’s father grunts, stacking plates in the sink.

“Stannis…”

“He has Ramon to cook for him, it’s not fair to put you in trouble” he goes on, now dumping the cutlery in the sink too.

“Stannis, don’t you see?” Sansa says gently, and stops fiddling with the coffee maker.

“See what? We have our family routine, he can’t hover around disrupting it all the time” her husband says, rinsing his hands under the tap.

“Isn’t it obvious he’s lonely now that Myrcella is away in Dorne?” Sansa says.

“Oh. That” Shireen’s dad says, like he hadn’t considered it before.

“Think of it. He’s suddenly all alone in that huge house” Sansa goes on.

“He has Ramon” her husband points out.

_“Stannis”_ Sansa says. It’s almost a scold, but she’s smiling wanly.

“Well, why can’t he go bother Renly and Loras, or your parents?”

“You said it yourself – it’s the family routine. Loras and Renly are alone, and my parents only have Rickon around. But we have Shireen, and Minisa and Steffon. It’s probably more family-like in his head”

“Well, we can’t be his crutch. The birds leave the nest one day, it’s normal. I’m not going to camp on Robert’s lawn when Shireen leaves home one day”

“But it’s not the same” Sansa says patiently. “You have me, and Steffon and Minisa. But imagine if things were different. If the twins and I were not in the picture, and it was just you and Shireen”

There is silence for a few moments, broken only by the coffee maker’s purring. 

“I don’t want to imagine that” Shireen’s father says then very quietly.

Sansa smiles at him sweetly and draws him in one of her hugs, soft and fluffy like the yarn she uses for knitting. From the corner, Shireen can see her father burying his face in his wife’s hair as he hugs her tightly, and she decides it’s as good a moment as any to get in the kitchen. There have been plenty of times she’s accidentally walked in in one of their tender moments, and she’s told herself it’s not her fault they’re always PDA-ing all over the house. She leaves the salad bowl and the pitcher on the kitchen table without her father or Sansa indicating that they have registered her presence there.

“Coffee will be ready soon” she tells her uncle when she enters the living room and sits on the sofa next to him. “Steffon and Minisa are alright?”

“Sleeping like logs. You’d think I’d be the one to feel exhausted after giving them so many piggy-back rides!” Robert says with a hearty laugh. “So what’s up with you, other than studying?” he asks her then, ruffling her hair. 

Shireen laughs a little. Given that her uncle paid minimal attention to her as a child, it’s still a little strange to see him try and be interested in her life, but she supposes it all boils down to Myrcella being away.

“I just started volunteering as an English teacher for immigrants in this non-profit” Shireen says excitedly.

“Oh?” her uncle says in surprise.

“We hold the lessons in Low Valyrian and teach them English. It’s challenging, but also quite interesting, because you see, they all come from different places and are different ages and even their educational background is very different, so managing to get them all on the same page is…” she trails off, realizing she has already lost Robert, whose eyes have gone glassy.

“So, yeah” she says. She supposes she shouldn’t be angry at him. He’s never pretended to care about much other than his own enjoyment. But he _did_ ask how she is doing, and for that she allows herself to be a little miffed.

“So, any boys on the horizon?” Robert asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I’m still with Bran, remember? We’re going the distance” Shireen reminds her uncle with a stern look.

“Right, of course. How about parties?” her uncle says then hopefully. 

She smiles. She supposes he does care, and does want to learn more about her, but through things he understands.

“I don’t think I’m much of a party animal. Besides, I spend so much time outside, I know dad and Sansa like it when I spend some time with them and the twins” Shireen says.

“Well at least you think of your parents, unlike that heartless daughter of mine” Robert says with a grimace.

“Don’t be so dramatic, you know Myrcella loves you” Shireen says, rolling her eyes. 

“Does she now? It’s a miracle if I ever get her to pick up her phone or log in on skype. I have no idea what she’s doing down in Sunspear!” Robert grumbles.

“The same things as me” Shireen says soothingly. _Just with a lot more partying than me, and a lot more boys,_ she thinks, but doesn’t mention it. What her uncle doesn’t know can’t hurt him. “She loves you very much, uncle. She just wants to feel more independent” she adds.

“She told you that?” her uncle asks, his bushy eyebrows climbing up the creases of his forehead.

“She doesn’t have to” Shireen says, smiling at him.

“Don’t worry, Robert. Myrcella will be back for Christmas, and that’s just around the corner” Shireen’s dad says encouragingly as he enters the living room with the coffee tray, and he earns an approving smile from Sansa.

“It will be nice to have her back in the house” Robert says, cheering up a little. “Let’s only hope that my satanic ex-wife doesn’t try to snatch her for the holidays ”

“Myrcella is an adult now, no one can force her to do anything” Sansa says as she starts serving coffee.

“But what if she actually _wants_ to spend her holidays in Lannisport?” Robert wonders, suddenly face-to-face with an unpleasant possibility.

“Cersei _is_ her mother. And she has Tommen and her uncles there too” Sansa says gently.

“But she has her father and all her friends here. She will come, right Shireen?” Shireen’s father says, still on his mission from Sansa to cheer Robert up.

Shireen has gotten up to take a biscuit from the tray. Just like her father, she doesn’t care for coffee, but unlike him, she never says no to biscuits. Now she is standing in the middle of the living room, feeling rather exposed.

“Actually…” she says reluctantly.

“What?” Robert says, his eyes wide open.

Shireen takes a biscuit, though now it’s more of an excuse to avert her eyes.

“She kind of mentioned the other day that she’s thinking of not returning home for the holidays” Shireen says reluctantly as she sits again. “Either home” she specifies.

_“What?”_ Robert booms. It’s the first time Shireen has heard someone boom despondently. “What is she going to do then?”

“She said she’d like to take a trip somewhere with some of her friends from uni” Shireen says, feeling rather uncomfortable exposing her cousin’s plans. The truth though is that she thought Myrcella had already at least mentioned this possibility to her father.

“But Christmas is a family holiday!” Robert says, looking rather lost.

“Sorry. I don’t think she’s made any concrete plans, but…” Shireen says awkwardly.

“Why didn’t she tell me anything?” Robert asks no one in particular.

“I think Myrcella is testing her independence” Sansa ventures.

“That’s all fine and dandy, but what am I going to do alone at Christmas?” Robert says.

“Oh, don’t be like that” his brother says impatiently. “You’ll be with us and the Starks, and definitely not alone”

“How can she do that to me? Leave me all alone in the holidays when I haven’t seen her for an entire semester?” Robert moans. He clearly hasn’t paid attention to what his brother said.

“Like Sansa said, Myrcella is an adult and she can do what she likes. If that entails spending Christmas away from you, then so be it” Shireen’s dad says curtly. It’s obvious to Shireen that he’s trying to put an end to the conversation.

“But she’s my little girl!” Robert insists, unwilling to see reason.

“She’s an adult” his brother repeats flatly. 

To Shireen’s amazement and amusement, Robert attempts to give her father the puppy eyes.

“Please don’t do that. It only works on Ned” her father says sternly. He’s about to say something more, but a discreet cough from his wife distracts him.

There’s an exchange of looks between Shireen’s dad and Sansa. They seem to be having a very eloquent conversation with their eyes, with eyebrows arching and knitting, and eyes opening wide or narrowing. In the end Sansa seems to gain the upper hand and her husband looks at the skies –or rather, the ceiling- before turning to look at Robert again, who’s still giving him the puppy eyes.

“Well what exactly are you expecting me to do about it?” he snaps at Robert.

“Find me a way to get Myrcella back home for the holidays, obviously” Robert says.

Shireen’s dad lets out a little sigh. Clearly, offering moral support and parenting advice to his older brother is not how he envisioned spending his Thursday evening. But Sansa is raising her eyebrows at him again.

“Right. I maintain that she’s an adult and can do what she pleases, but whatever. Have you thought about actually telling your daughter you miss her and would like to have her home for Christmas?”

“Ha ha. I’m telling you, Myrcella never picks up the phone when I call her!” Robert complains.

“How about an e-mail then?”

“Stannis” Sansa says. Her tone is neutral, but he seems to read something into it, because he sighs again and assumes a more serious expression.

“All I can suggest is that Shireen reminds Myrcella the next time they skype to stop ignoring your calls. Then you can tell Myrcella that you miss her and would love to have her back for the holidays”

“That’s all?” Robert says, looking a little disappointed. “I was hoping for something more… effective”

“Look, Robert, you can’t make Myrcella do anything she doesn’t want to. And apart from emotional blackmail –which I don’t advise- I don’t see how we can convince her to come to King’s Landing for the holidays” Shireen’s father says. “If it’s independence that’s she wants, then let her have it. The more you try to keep her close, the further away she will want to go”

“If you love something, set it free and all that?” Robert says.

“I suppose” his brother says with a grimace. Shireen knows he finds the expression a little cheesy, but he can’t deny its truth. Sansa smiles approvingly at her husband.

“Myrcella does listen to you. Will you ask her to return my calls?” Robert says then, turning to Shireen.

Shireen nods. She’s actually supportive of Myrcella’s idea to travel during the holidays, but on the other hand she thinks that ignoring her father is rather childish.

“Ok. Let’s see how it goes” Robert says, for once modest in his expectations.

“Children can be so ungrateful sometimes” he says after a few moments of pensive silence. “They think that having parents who care about them is stifling and embarrassing, but they don’t know… they don’t know how lucky they are”

At that, Shireen’s father tears his eyes from Sansa and looks back to his brother. His expression seems to subtly change within seconds. Surprise first, then something like annoyance, then the ghost of something painful. Two pairs of sea-blue eyes meet, so similar and dissimilar at the same time.

“No. No, they don’t” Shireen’s father says eventually. “But perhaps it’s better that way”

Robert smiles wanly at that. “Thanks, Stan” he says then.

Shireen turns to Sansa, instinctively looking for some wordless explanation, but Sansa is looking at the two men, smiling at them. One side of her mouth seems to be tugged by sadness, the other by joy.


	32. age eighteen (part two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Sansa's turn to give some advice

“All packed” Shireen says, leaving her little suitcase at the kitchen door and heading to the fridge to get a bottle of water for the way.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to give you a ride to the airport?” Sansa asks, her delicate hands nursing a mug of tea. “Margaery can stay with the children for half an hour”

Margaery, who’s sitting on the kitchen island next to Sansa nursing her cup of coffee, doesn’t look very excited at the prospect of babysitting, but remains silent.

“It’s ok, I already called a taxi” Shireen says and smiles at Sansa to show her she appreciates the offer.

“Where are you going again?” Margaery asks. 

“Uh, Hardhome, I’m visiting Bran” Shireen says, and can’t help but smile again. She’s way too excited to keep calm.

“Wait, you two are still dating? You’re going the distance?” Margaery says, a mix of curiosity and surprise in her soft brown eyes.

“Yes?” Shireen says with a short laugh, equally surprised that Margaery didn’t know that. Then again, she and Sansa probably have much more interesting things to talk about than Shireen’s love life.

“Ouch. Good luck with that” the brunette says, in a tone that indicates luck isn’t going to help much anyway.

“Margaery” Sansa says mildly.

“Um, thanks. We’re doing just fine” Shireen says sourly, restraining herself from making a comment about Margaery’s weird on-and-off relationship with Theon and the fact that they can’t even make the distance between King’s Landing and Winterfell work.

Her phone buzzes, notifying her that the taxi has arrived. Sansa jumps from her seat and comes to give her a hug.

“You have your documents? Enough socks and underwear? You haven’t forgotten anything?” she says, eyeing Shireen’s suitcase.

“You’re such a mum” Shireen says with a laugh. “Don’t worry; I’ve got everything I need”

“Then have a safe trip, and a great time up north. And kiss Bran for me” Sansa says.

Shireen raises an eyebrow at the last request.

_“Well”_ Sansa says, but leaves it there and laughs instead. “Have fun” she tells Shireen as she hugs her again.

On the way to the airport, and in the departure lounge and then during the flight, she can’t take Margaery’s reaction out of her head, despite her excitement and happiness. She knows a lot of people find it weird that she and Bran are trying the long distance thing, but those are mostly people who haven’t known them for a very long time, or have only known them separately. But Margaery, she’s known them for years, and she has seen them together – hell, she was there the day their parents found out about their relationship. To see her have so little faith in them is a little disheartening, and makes Shireen wonder if deep down everyone else thinks that what they’re doing is pointless.

All glum thoughts are wiped from her mind when she enters the arrivals lounge and sees Bran standing on the side, enveloped in a thick coat and holding a bunch of slightly mushed buttercups. He grins when he sees her, and she runs in his arms so fast he has no time to take the flowers out of the way, and they get pressed between their bodies.

“I should have gotten you chocolates instead, we haven’t got the memo yet up here that spring has arrived” he chuckles between kisses.

“You know me so well” she says with a grin, but accepts the mistreated flowers anyway.

Her thoughts remain happy for the next few days, too occupied by Bran, his new friends and new haunts to think of anything else. But on her flight home and after an almost tearful goodbye with Bran, Margaery’s comment returns to annoy her, as if she doesn’t feel crappy already, and follows her all the way to King’s Landing.

It’s still relatively early when she gets home, so by the time Sansa returns home with Steffon and Minisa, Shireen has had time to take a shower and rest a little.

“Shireen is back!” Minisa squeals when she sees her big sister coming down the stairs, and drops her little bag on the floor to run and hug her. Steffon follows, though he is much more composed and lets his mother take his jacket off first before he goes to hug Shireen. 

“Did you have a good time?” Sansa asks as she dumps her books and dossiers on the coffee table in the living room.

“It was great” Shireen says, following her inside with her brother and sister still holding each of her hands. She has been in contact with her father and Sansa all these days of course and they know she’s been enjoying herself, but she supposes there’s something different about making this affirmation in person, because Sansa smiles brightly at her.

“Bran is doing well then? I’ve never thought that Hardhome is the most fun place to be when you’re nineteen. Hardly anything happens this north” Sansa says, sinking in one of the sofas and rubbing her eyes. Even the easiest days at school are tiring. 

“Every place is fun when you are with friends. Actually, the crappy places are even more fun than the regular ones this way” Shireen says and smiles as she remembers some of the shenanigans Bran and his friends were up to, but then the thought of him makes her smile wilt a little.

“What’s up?” Sansa says. Somehow, she always knows when something’s not right.

“Mummy, can we watch a movie?” Steffon interrupts.

“Which one?” Sansa asks automatically.

“Brave!” Minisa says, a little louder than she needs to. She is a little obsessed with that movie, probably because the heroine has wild red hair like her. Steffon on his part seems to find the idea of people transforming into bears very interesting, to the point where he sometimes draws his parents as bears.

“Alright, but don’t sit too close to the screen” Sansa says after giving Shireen another glance. They could use some time to talk undisturbed.

“Is everything alright between you and Bran?” Sansa asks gently after she’s made some tea and brought it to the living room. It is an unwritten rule of this household that every conversation is more productive when done over steaming mugs of tea. “Long-distance relationships are hard even under the best of circumstances”

“We are great, actually” Shireen says truthfully.

It has come as a surprise to her, in all honesty. When she and Bran decided to try going the distance she half-expected things to fall apart very quickly, but she had wanted to give it a try anyway. It was hard of course –it still is- and in ways she hadn’t expected. She never gets jealous of him –that’s just not how her brain is wired- and he’s never gotten jealous of her either. She trusts him completely, and so does he. The hard part is not having him in her everyday life, not going to the movies or for a walk with him, not holding his hand or sharing his bed, and trying to retain a semblance of connection through skype calls and messages. She half-expected all those things to wear them down, to make them grow tired of each other, to weaken their connection. Yet somehow, it only seems to make them stronger and more certain of their feelings. She misses him more, needs him more, loves him more, not less than before. He is not growing into a more abstract idea of a boyfriend. If anything, he seems to be setting even deeper roots in her heart, all the way from Hardhome. 

“I’m glad to hear that” Sansa says with a smile. “Is it what Margaery said then? I know she can be a little-”

“No, no. I mean, I thought it did, but maybe it’s the other way around?” Shireen says cryptically.

Sansa doesn’t say anything. She is patient by nature, and she has learned by now that this approach works best with Shireen.

Shireen remains silent for a while, frowning at her tea. 

“How did you know dad was the one for you?” she asks eventually.

Sansa raises her eyebrows and smiles in surprise. Clearly this isn’t the question she expected.

“What?” she says, in a rare moment of bafflement.

“How did you know dad was the one for you?” Shireen repeats. “You know, _the one,_ the right one?” 

“You know, that’s a very hard question to answer” Sansa says, now frowning too. “To be honest I’m still not quite sure what you’re asking. You mean how did I know he was the right person to share my life with?”

Shireen nods.

“Well…” Sansa stars and then stops, momentarily lost in thought. “I didn’t just wake up one day, with the thought lodged in my head, if that’s what you’re wondering. Things like that… you sort of reach that conclusion gradually, with the passing of time, and it is conscious as much as it is instinctive”

“Yes, I get that. But how did you know that _dad_ was the one?” Shireen insists.

“Why your father and not somebody else?” Sansa clarifies.

“Yes” Shireen says. She had never wondered that before. Her eleven-year-old self had considered Sansa lucky to be with her father, because her father was the best person in the world. Her fourteen-year-old self had come to appreciate Sansa so much that she was too excited at the prospect of calling her family to wonder about her decisions. But now it felt very important to know why Sansa made the choices she made.

“Because he was everything I was looking for and more” Sansa says with a warm smile, her rosy cheeks getting one shade redder. “It’s not like I had a list in my head and started ticking off boxes date after date” she adds, and Shireen actually laughs a little.

“I had been in a couple of bad relationships in the past, you know. By the time I met your father, I already knew what I didn’t want, and I knew a couple of things that by then I had learned were essential for a good relationship” Sansa goes on. “Your father…” she trails of, her face getting a dreamy expression. “He is the most wonderful person I know. He is so responsible, so reliable and trustworthy. He is polite, even kind in his own way. He is smart and fair, and extremely supportive. And he is a great father. He makes me feel safe and happy – more than anyone else. He has from the start. I suppose at some point I realized that what we had was unique, that this specific kind of happiness could not be replicated with anyone else. And in the end it was more of a gut feeling than anything else. I just _knew_ ” 

Shireen sighs. She’s not sure if she’s gotten her answer.

“See? I’ve done at terrible job at explaining it, but that’s the point. Those things are almost impossible to explain” Sansa says, sighing too.

“But you were in your twenties when you met him. You had a couple of experiences before that, you knew what to compare it with…” Shireen murmurs almost to herself.

Sansa frowns, but then her brow is smoothened, and her eyes become brighter, as if her vision has gotten sharper and clearer.

“You’re wondering about Bran” she says quietly.

“I love him” Shireen blurts out. He had said it first, and then she said it back. But she has never told anyone else.

Sansa smiles softly, keeping her thoughts to herself.

“He is… wonderful” Shireen goes on, trying to ignore the heat spreading rapidly on her face. Talking about her feelings to others has never been easy. “It feels so right being with him – he makes me so happy. And… I can’t imagine not being with him. Ever”

“And that scares you?” Sansa asks gently.

“No. But I’m thinking – I’m afraid I could be wrong. We are so young, right? We’ve been together since high school, and we’ve never had another real relationship… And I just wonder… We may change with years – we _have_ to change, right? – and grow apart and tired of each other simply because we’ve been together for so long… Or maybe one of us will start wondering what it would be like to be with someone else, to have a different life… I mean… This is the age we are supposed to meet a lot of people, do a couple of stupid things and learn a few lessons, no? I mean – oh, I don’t know what I mean” Shireen huffs, her chest feeling heavy even after her lungs are empty.

Sansa breathes out too, a slightly pained expression on her face. But there’s sweetness to it too. Shireen feels a little sorry for her. Sansa is always the one who gets to untangle the mess of her thoughts.

“Those are very normal questions to ask yourself at this age” Sansa says gently. “To be fair, those are things that many people in long-term relationships ask themselves, but anyway. Yes, most people your age date lots of people, meet a bunch of colourful characters and make a few mistakes that are mostly the result of inexperience rather than anything else. It’s a learning process, hopefully one not too harmful or traumatic”

“That’s the thing” Shireen cuts in, looking at her knees. “We are bound to make mistakes, because we have to learn, but I don’t want to make these mistakes with Bran”

“Shireen” Sansa says with a light exhale that makes Shireen look up. She is smiling in a mildly exasperated manner, like she can’t believe what Shireen has said. “Not everyone makes the same mistakes, you know. Not everyone makes the same amount of mistakes either. Some people actually don’t make that many mistakes at all. _And_ making mistakes is not the only way to learn. As a teacher you should know that”

Shireen closes her eyes, suddenly feeling a little ridiculous. Sansa is patient. Minisa and Steffon are laughing at the TV, sprawled on the floor.

“This is so confusing. It’s just – people don’t meet the person they’re supposed to be with for the rest of their lives at the age of sixteen” she says with a nervous laugh.

Her father was in his mid-fourties when he met the right person. Her mother was closer to her fifties than to her fourties. Her uncle Robert still hasn’t found the right one.

Sansa extends her arm and gently tucks one strand of her hair behind her ear. Shireen can almost see the future as she’s doing it – a future in which Sansa is tucking an unruly red strand of hair behind Minisa’s ear, the same motherly warmth in her sky-blue eyes.

“I barely had to wait to meet the love of my life. He had to wait a little longer for me. But we found each other in the end” she says, that dreamy look on her face again. “The point is” she adds, focusing back on Shireen “you could meet the right person at sixteen or at sixty six. It’s different for everyone”

Shireen brings the rim of her mug to her lips for lack of anything to say or do. Her tea has grown cold.

“You know what I think?” Sansa says, now looking at her intently.

“What?” Shireen asks.

“I think you’re just like your father. You think too much sometimes” Sansa says with a playful smile.

Shireen can’t help but laugh with that. Sansa is probably right.

“Don’t think so much about these things. If you love Bran, if you’re happy with him, then savour it for as long as it lasts. Only time will tell how long that is” Sansa says gently.

Shireen smiles. What Sansa says sounds fundamentally right, but most importantly it has somehow managed to soothe her increasingly paranoid thoughts. She stores it at the back of her mind, knowing that she will retrieve it later to think about it more. 

_Savour it for as long as it lasts._ It’s almost like a gift.

They hear the door then, and Shireen’s father hanging his overcoat on the coat rack.

“The love of your life is here” Shireen tells Sansa jokingly.

“Hello, love of my life” Sansa says brightly when her husband finally shows up at the living room, briefcase in one hand.

“Hello, love of her life” Shireen greets him too.

“What did I miss?” he asks a little confused.

But one of Sansa’s bright smiles is enough to make him smile too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost there, guys! Just one more chapter!


	33. age eighteen (part three)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selyse has an announcement for Shireen // Shireen has an announcement for Stannis and Sansa // Bran and Shireen have a present for Stannis and Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I miscalculated. I thought this chapter would be smaller, and that I would have to slap the epilogue at the end. But it turned out as a normal-sized chapter, so I'm posting it on its own. I will post the epilogue tomorrow, and it will be set a few years in the future. For now, enjoy the (technically speaking) last chapter. :)

“We’ve been meaning to tell you” her mother says a few minutes in their skype call. She scrunches up her face like she does when she’s about to make any announcement, big or small, good or bad. Next to her, Milton shifts in his place, a coy smile appearing under his mustache.

“What is it?” Shireen says conversationally. She half-expects them to tell her that Milton is taking her mum to some mind-blowingly boring dentist convention, or that they’ve bought a new fish for their aquarium.

“Er, you’re still coming to Brightwater next month, aren’t you?” her mother asks carefully.

“Yes, I’ll book my tickets this week” Shireen nods, suddenly wondering what this is about.

“Good, good. Because – well, we’ve decided to get married next month” her mother says.

Shireen needs a few moments to process what her mother has just told her. Milton is looking at her expectantly through the laptop screen.

“What! You guys! Congratulations!” she says then with a big smile. “That’s fantastic!”

“Thank you” her mother says composedly, but Milton beams at her.

“Can I be honest with you? I thought you guys were being all modern and weren’t planning to marry at all” Shireen says then.

“Well I’ve been asking your mother for a while now, but she didn’t see the point” Milton chuckles. “Needless to say I am on cloud nine now” he adds and gives his future wife a kiss on the cheek. 

“It’s not a big deal, really. It’s just more practical this way” Shireen’s mother says, but Shireen can see even through the laptop screen that the lines on her mother’s face are softer than usual. “It’s not going to be a big wedding” she adds then. “We’re just going to the city hall, and then to that restaurant on the Honeywine river”

“The Bandallon? That’s a great place!” Shireen says approvingly.

“We’re not inviting many people. Just family and a few friends. But you should bring your boyfriend” her mother says then in her usual serious tone.

“Bran?” Shireen says stupidly.

“Yes. That is, if you want to and he’s free. It’s time we met him” her mother says.

“Er, thanks. I’ll tell him” Shireen says, even more surprised than before. Her mind is already wandering, thinking of the possibilities. It would be nice for Bran to meet the other side of her family and to see Brightwater, the place where she has spent so many summers and holidays. And in a funny way, it is fitting for him to be present to her mother’s wedding, since he was also present to her father’s wedding.

A timer starts ringing from the other end of the connection.

“I need to check the food” Milton says, jumping up. “Nice to see you, Shireen!” he shouts as he leaves the room.

“I need to go too, actually” Shireen tells her mother, checking the time at the bottom of her computer screen.

“We’ll talk again soon” Selyse says with a curt nod.

“Mum?” Shireen says before she’s about to end the call. “I’m really happy for you”

She feels like her belly is full of something warm as she says it, like she has swallowed a small sun.

“I know” her mother says with a warm smile.

//

“Mum and Milton are getting married” she says when she sits on the old tablecloth.

They’re having a pick-nick in the garden instead of having a proper Sunday lunch in the dining room because Steffon and Minisa have been asking for one non-stop for the last couple of weeks. So now they’re sitting on an old tablecloth that Sansa doesn’t mind if it gets stained and are nibbling on food that doesn’t require any cutlery. The twins seem to be excited with the idea. Their father on the other hand seems to be regarding it as the beginning of anarchy.

“That’s wonderful” Sansa says warmly, not missing a beat. Shireen smiles, marveling at Sansa’s unlimited capacity for kindness. She knows she and her mother have never really seen eye to eye.

“Give them our congratulations” her father says composedly, suddenly vividly reminding Shireen of her mother’s composed manners.

“Thanks” Shireen says, and she means it.

“Is this the announcement you had for us?” her father asks then, helping Steffon fill his plastic cup with apricot juice.

“Oh, no. I literally just found out about this. No, I meant to tell you something else” Shireen says, shaking her head.

“We’re all ears” Sansa says, smiling at her. She’s in one of her favourite floral sundresses and her copper-red hair shines under the June sun.

“I’m going to declare my major when the next semester starts” Shireen says.

Her father and Sansa look at her expectantly.

“I’m going to major in Valyrian languages”

“Excellent idea. You certainly have a talent for languages, and multilingualism is a very useful skill” her father says approvingly.

“I’m glad you found your path” Sansa says happily.

“Do you have anything specific in mind?” her father asks.

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot these last few months, actually. I’ve attended so many different and interesting classes so far… I feel like university has already opened my mind a lot. But to be honest, the thing I have enjoyed the most this year is volunteering as a language teacher. This is what I want to do. I want to teach languages – English and Valyrian, Low or High. That’s why I’m choosing this major. As a native, I can always find a job as an English teacher, but I want to perfect my knowledge of Valyrian” Shireen explains.

In the beginning of the academic year she felt that she enjoyed learning, but she didn’t enjoy learning one particular thing. Now she knows why – the one thing she enjoys more than learning, is teaching.

“Excellent” her father says again, but he doesn’t seem the least bit surprised by her words. Sansa is smiling brightly, but also looks thoroughly unsurprised.

“Did you guys know somehow?” Shireen asks suspiciously.

“We thought you might choose this path” Sansa says pleasantly. “It’s obvious that you really enjoy teaching and we know for a fact that you are great at it”

Shireen blushes. Compliments are always great, but there’s something special about getting complimented on something you love and care about.

“One way or another, you will end up following someone’s footsteps from this family” her father says then, with a smile that Shireen can only describe as encouraging.

“It’s true!” Shireen says with a laugh. She hadn’t thought about it this way until now. She may be not following her father’s footsteps, but she will be following Sansa’s in a way.

“You have been a great influence on me” she tells Sansa sheepishly. “I might have not got into teaching if you hadn’t asked for my help last year. I’ve learned so much from our lessons, and even before that, I feel like I’ve learned so much from the way you used to help me with my schoolwork. But… it’s not just teaching. You have been an influence on me on so many other things. I am who I am because of you too” Shireen says in one breath, blushing again.

“I know” Sansa says calmly. Her voice and her eyes are steady. Her face is kind as always, but she’s not quite smiling.

Shireen doesn’t know what kind of reaction she expected to her impromptu acknowledgment of Sansa’s importance in her life, but it’s not this one. Then again, this feels more right. What else should have Sansa said? Thank you? No, this is the moment of her recognition. She’s earned it.

Shireen grins. Her eyes lock with Sansa’s and in the bright blue she finds what she’s always known to live there: love, vast and unconditional.

“Minisa, don’t do that”

Her father’s stern voice distracts Shireen. She turns to look at her little sister, who has been pouring juice in her cup with a great amount of dexterity. The problem is that the cup is almost completely full, but Minisa doesn’t look like she’s about to stop pouring any time soon.

“You can’t fit all of the apricot juice in the cup. The cup isn’t big enough, it will overflow and you will stain your mother’s tablecloth” her father continues sternly.

“It will fit” Minisa says stubbornly.

“It won’t” Steffon says, but this simple fact doesn’t seem to upset him nearly as much as his father. For the most part he’s looking at his sister’s experiment with mild interest.

“Minisa, listen to your father” Sansa says.

“No, it will fit” Minisa insists.

“Fine, you go ahead then” her father says. “Perhaps you’ll learn by example”

The cup soon overflows, soaking the white cotton with the orange-coloured liquid.

“It was too much” Minisa observes thoughtfully after a few moments of staring at the stained tablecloth.

“Indeed” her father says, his nostrils flaring.

“Don’t be mad. She’s gotten her stubbornness from you” Sansa says and shares a half-amused, half-proud look with her husband.

//

“Gods, this thing is getting heavier by the minute” Bran groans.

“I know, it’s ridiculous” Shireen breathes out.

“Ouch! It prickled me! Are lemon trees supposed to have thorns?”

“I honestly have no idea”

The whole thing has not been thought out properly. She and Bran were at the city center, doing some last minute shopping before their trip to Brightwater at the end of the week. Bran had treated Shireen to an ice-cream after they were done, and as they were walking around, Shireen had stopped in front of a florist’s shop, looking at the flowers and plants.

“Looking for buttercups?” Bran had teased her.

“No. But look, they have a lemon tree here! Look, it even has three big lemons growing!” Shireen said, pointing to the potted tree. “Dad and Sansa have been talking about getting one for ages. You know how Sansa loves lemons”

“She does?” Bran said, feigning ignorance. Shireen gave him a light slap on his arm.

“Do you think we should get it? It would be a nice surprise” Shireen said, biting her bottom lip. The lemon tree looked quite pretty, with glossy, deep green leaves and three perfectly shaped lemons.

“Sure” Bran said. “Sansa is going to lose her marbles”

And so they had bought it. The man in the shop put the pot in two plastic bags, one into the other, and once they had paid, Shireen and Bran suddenly remembered that they hadn’t come to the center by car.

They had to carry the lemon tree to the nearest bus stop, each of them carrying one of the bag’s handles in one hand and their other shopping bags in their other hands. They had to change two buses to get from the city center to the waterfront, where Shireen’s neighbourhood was. On both buses they got amused looks by the other passengers, and Shireen suspected that it wasn’t so much because of the tree itself, but because of hers and Bran’s disheveled state.

Now they’re walking from the bus stop to her house, the plastic bag’s handles digging mercilessly in their hands. The bottom has been torn from the weight, and muddy water is leaking out from the pot, spilling on her bare legs and Bran’s cargo shorts.

“I honestly hope this comes off” she says breathlessly.

“To be honest, I worry more about my waist” Bran grunts.

“I can carry it on my own” Shireen says gallantly, realizing a little too late that she shouldn’t have made Bran carry something so heavy.

“No, you can’t” Bran retorts and Shireen doesn’t counter him. They are both breathless and sweaty, with scratches on their arms from the thorns. Neither of them can handle the tree on their own.

When they get closer to her house, Shireen notices that there is no one in the front lawn.

“I have an idea” she tells Bran, and somehow he understands from the glint in her eyes what she’s up to.

They creep up to the front door as quietly as they can, which is even more exerting than carrying the infernal tree and grunting at the same time. They step on the porch on their tiptoes and place the lemon tree on the doormat.

“Are you good to run?” Shireen asks Bran in a whisper after they’ve caught their breath a little.

“I’ll manage to the other side of the road, don’t worry”

“One, two, three” she says under her breath. Bran is already going down the steps of the porch quietly. She rings the doorbell, and they both make a run for it.

They reach the other side of the road and hide behind a car that is parked there before anyone opens the door. They look at each other and start laughing uncontrollably, giddy with childish excitement. It’s been years since Shireen has done anything remotely like this, and to be precise, even as a child she wasn’t really up to shenanigans like this.

“Shh!” Bran says then.

Someone opens the door. It’s Shireen’s father, who stares at the lemon tree for several moments as if in deep thought. Then, Shireen thinks she makes out a small smile appear on his face.

“Sansa” they hear him say. He’s raised his voice so that it will carry inside the house. “I think there’s something for you here”

Shireen and Bran are convulsing with silent laughter. She doesn’t even know why this is so amusing to her. Sansa finally appears to the door after a few moments, her children trailing behind her.

“What is it, darling?” she asks her husband, but then she sees the lemon tree. “Oh! What is this? Is it – but how – Stannis, did you-”

“I have nothing to do with this” he says amusedly.

“Mummy, what is this?” Steffon asks, appearing behind his mother’s legs.

“This is a lemon tree, darling!” Sansa says excitedly. Something about Steffon’s unimpressed look makes Shireen laugh out loud. Her laughter carries easily across the quiet street, attracting the attention of her father and Sansa.

“Come on, time for the big reveal” Bran chuckles, helping her up.

“Ta-daa!” they shout as they appear behind the car.

“You!” Sansa exclaims as they cross the street laughing.

“What happened to you?” Shireen’s father asks when they join them on the porch and sees the state they’re in, all mud, sweat and scratches.

“The tree didn’t agree with us much” Bran says, still laughing.

“Do you like it?” Shireen asks Sansa and her father impatiently.

“I love it!” Sansa says in a slightly high-pitched voice that seems to amuse her husband. “But what’s the occasion?”

“Well- you said you wanted a lemon tree!” Shireen says with a laugh. Sansa can’t help it, she laughs too.

“This is so unexpected. Thank you!” she says and hugs both Shireen and Bran, clearly not caring about all the mud.

“This was very thoughtful of you” Shireen’s father says approvingly. “No, Steffon, don’t touch that, it has thorns”

“These are lemons!” Minisa says.

“Yes, darling. And we can make lemonade, and custard, and lemon pies, and lemon chutney... Stannis, we need to read up on lemon trees. I think we could plant it at the far left side of the garden, near the tangerine tree, wouldn’t that be lovely?”

“Sounds like a good place for it” he agrees.

“Oh, Stannis! We have a lemon tree!” Sansa exclaims, as giddy as a child. She hugs her husband and kisses him full on the mouth, and he returns the hug and the kiss readily.

Shireen listens to Sansa chattering away excitedly. She looks incredibly happy, her face bright and her cheeks rosy. Her father seems unusually expressive too, undeniably happy with his wife’s happiness. Steffon and Minisa are circling the tree curiously, trying to touch the lemons without touching the thorns, giggling with their new game. Shireen feels Bran’s hand at the small of her back. He is grinning at her, his eyes catching the summer light.

Shireen feels her heart flutter, overwhelmed with happiness. It is a beautiful summer day. She is in love, and she has just made her father, Sansa, and her siblings very happy. Right in this moment, surrounded by her most favourite people in the world, she feels she has it all.


	34. Epilogue

Shireen closes her eyes and inhales deeply. She could recognize this place in this specific point in time just by its delicious smells: Wood burning in the fireplace; mulled wine; freshly baked gingerbread cookies; Catelyn’s famous honey-mustard roast; and the tangy smell of sour cherries for her equally famous black Forrest cake. It’s Christmas Eve in Winterfell, and dinner is not served yet.

She opens her eyes again. The scene in front of her is as familiar as the smells wafting from the kitchen. Ned and uncle Robert are standing next to the fireplace, talking and sipping on their drinks – mulled wine for Ned, elderberry juice for Robert. Ned is smiling his usual mild smile. Robert is talking animatedly about something Shireen can’t make out. Myrcella is not here, but in the past few years he’s learned to accept that. Either way, she’ll be flying back home for New Year ’s Eve. On the other side of the room, Arya, Gendry and Rickon are already discussing teams for the charades game they will be playing after dinner. Next to them, Robb is face-timing Jon and Ygritte, who are spending the holidays with the other park rangers at the Gift. His wife, Jeyne, is in the kitchen with Catelyn. Shireen can hear their voices over the clutter of plates and pots. Robb and Jeyne’s boy, little Ned, is circling the Christmas tree as inconspicuously as he can, looking eagerly at the presents underneath.

Shireen’s siblings seem a little less interested in the presents than their cousin, staying close to their parents instead. At eight, Minisa is the spitting image of her mother at that age. In the past few years she has grown quieter than in her early years, when her feisty personality reminded people more of Arya and less of Sansa. Now she is sitting on the couch carefully, making sure she won’t crease the skirt of her pretty dress. She wears her hair long, like her mother, and every move she makes is an artful imitation of Sansa’s graceful moves. She is a polite and loving girl, with a sunny disposition that cheers everyone up. Steffon on his part looks every bit like his father, though his eyes are bright blue instead of dark. Only Shireen has inherited the sea-blue of their father. His hair is dark as ink, his face full of sharp lines that somehow look more harmonious on him than on his father. He is a well-behaved boy, thoughtful and gentle, but there is also a quiet strength about him that Shireen admires. 

“Mummy” Minisa says seriously. “Will you tell us the story again, please?”

They are sitting with their parents on the sofa opposite to the fireplace. Perched on the arm of Bran’s armchair, her fingers playing absentmindedly with his hair, Shireen can easily hear their conversation.

“What story, dear?” Sansa asks sweetly. She’s wearing a beautiful red-and-green plaid dress, her hair combed over to one side, leaving the other side of her creamy neck exposed. Shireen has caught her father more than once looking at his wife’s neck over the course of the evening, almost like a hungry vampire. If anything, Sansa seems to be enjoying it. It’s a little silly just how into each other they still are after a whole decade together.

“The story of how you and daddy met!” Minisa says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Shireen sighs. A few days ago, when she and Bran were celebrating his birthday, her father and Sansa were celebrating their anniversary, like they did every year on the day of the winter solstice. Only this time around, Minisa asked what was so special about that day. And when she heard the story, she got obsessed with it. 

“You have already heard it once tonight” her father says exasperatedly.

“But I love this story!” Minisa says with a pout.

“It’s a good story” Steffon agrees, and puts down the old comic book he’s been reading. Shireen vaguely remembers reading the same comic book on Bran’s twelfth birthday so many years ago.

Faced with their children’s bright and expectant eyes, Shireen’s father and Sansa accept their defeat.

“Well” Sansa starts with a small sigh. “I met your father for the first time on the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year…”

“It wasn’t technically the _first_ time” Shireen observes.

“There’s no need for pedantry” her father says in annoyance.

“We liked each other from the very start, and felt like we had known each other for years…” Sansa goes on.

“You technically _had_ ” Shireen says under her breath.

“They met in this house, actually” Bran chips in.

“Really?” Steffon says curiously. So far his greatest interest in the story is that it takes place during the shortest day of the year.

“Of course” Shireen says. “It was Bran’s twelfth birthday”

“What?” Minisa says, her eyes widening.

“What sort of story have you been telling them?” Shireen asks reprovingly.

“We’ve been giving them the abridged version” her father says warningly.

“But that’s not right. It’s not the _whole_ story” Shireen says.

“Honestly, Shireen, why don’t you tell them the story?” Sansa says pleasantly. “You seem to know it better than us”

“What an excellent idea” her husband says, raising his eyebrows triumphantly at his eldest daughter.

“Yes! Tell us the story!” Minisa squeals, always eager for a new version.

Shireen steals a glance at Bran. He looks at ease and amused, which doesn’t say much, because that’s his usual state of being. It occurs to her then that they are _still_ together – they have survived the awkwardness of their teenage years, the horrible distance of their university years, and they are about to start an adventure together. In a few months Shireen will be starting a master’s degree in Myr, and Bran will be following her there.

_How funny,_ she thinks. In a way, their story also started in that birthday party.

“Fine, I’ll tell you the story” she says, and moves from the arm of the chair to the sofa, next to her brother and sister. 

Her father and Sansa take immediate advantage of this opportunity and slip away. From where she’s sitting, Shireen can see them escape to the entrance hall. They stop there, and Sansa points something to Shireen’s father on the ceiling. A sprig of mistletoe is hanging from there. Sansa laughs, the sound light and joyful. Her husband smiles with that smile that only she can bring on his lips. One of his arms slips around her waist and he brings her closer to him. His free hand cups her face gently and he leans in to kiss her, in a way that Shireen has seen countless of times. Yet it is always gentle, always beautiful, and always new.

_Love never grows old,_ Shireen thinks. Bran has moved to the sofa next to her and his hand has found its natural place on her knee, but her eyes are still on her father and Sansa. What she has learned of love, of tenderness and devotion, she has learned it from them. What she has learned of family, she has learned it from them too. Whatever she does in her life, whatever steps she takes and whatever path she takes, it is with the certainty that those two people, the ones whose noses are now touching as they whisper sweet nothings to each other while they think no one’s watching, have set the right example for everything.

_And it all started here._ She suddenly feels grateful, for their instant attraction, for their courage to act on their feelings, for their certainty that theirs was a relationship worth exploring, for the love they had, have, and will always have for one another. Their love had transformed their world, and it had transformed Shireen’s world too, forever.

“So what happened?” Minisa asks impatiently, pulling her out of her thoughts. “What’s mum and dad’s story?”

“They met on the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year” Shireen starts. “Only they didn’t meet then for the first time. They had already known each other, sort of. All her life, half of his. On that day they met again, properly. It was on Bran’s twelfth birthday party and…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! It's finally over! 
> 
> Since the oscars were on a few days ago, I'll take this moment for my own heart-felt and tear-inducing thank you speech, given that this is the biggest thing I've ever written and it took me a little over a year to finish it.  
> This story started from a very personal place. I wanted to write a story about a girl with divorced parents, who has to deal with the reality that one parent has met someone new, because that was part of my experience growing up. I had just started writing Stansa at the time, and the Stannis/Sansa/Shireen triangle seemed to fit the bill. I initially thought I would be writing very few and defining moments in their lives, jumping quickly in time. I also thought that the story would be more about Stannis and Shireen. It turned out to be much more about Sansa and Shireen and the special relationship that develops between them. And because I fell in love with all the characters, I wrote a lot more scenes than I initially expected, wanting to explore their relationships more and more.  
> Stories often start one way and end another, but that's to be expected. For The New Girl, the catalyst was probably Sarah Black's His New Girl. And this brings us to the thank-you part. Tanks to His New Girl, this ingenious, hilarious, and incredibly moving story, the New Girl grew and expanded and became incredibly richer. Everything gained a deeper meaning, thanks to the masterfully written POV of Stannis. Sarah, thank you for this wonderful gift. And thank you for always being such an enthusiastic supporter of the story and for encouraging me so much. Your help has been invaluable!
> 
> But I also want to thank all of you - anyone who has read the story, anyone who has given kudos or left a comment, and all of you who have stayed with this story from the first chapter till the last, despite my erratic and sporadic updates. Thank you for the endless love you have shown this story, for your incredibly kind words, for your encouragement and support, and for the personal stories you have shared with me because of the theme of this story. This story really wouldn't be the same without you. You made it better, and for that I thank you from the bottom of my heart. You are the best readers I could have possibly wished for!
> 
> See you on the next one! <3

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [His New Girl](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6237421) by [Sarah_Black](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah_Black/pseuds/Sarah_Black)




End file.
